EC* 
Sm 
HI 


THE   MYSTERY   OF  THE   DOWNS 


* 


THE  MYSTERY 
OF  THE  DOWNS 


BY 

JOHN  WATSON 

AND 

ARTHUR  J.  REES 


GROSSET    &    DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS  NEW    YORK 


COPYRIGHT,  1918 
BY  DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY,  INO. 

Published  January,   1928 
Second  printing  January,  1928 
Third   printing,   February,    1928 
Fourth  printing,  March,  1928 


PBINTZD  IN  THB  U.  g.  A. 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  storm  had  descended  swiftly,  sweeping  in  sud- 
denly from  the  sea,  driving  across  the  downs  to  the 
hills  at  high  speed,  blotting  out  the  faint  rays  of  a 
crescent  moon  and  hiding  the  country-side  beneath  a 
pall  of  blackness,  which  was  forked  at  intervals  by 
flashes  of  lightning. 

The  darkness  was  so  impenetrable,  and  the  fury  of 
the  storm  so  fierce,  that  Harry  Marsland  pulled  his 
hat  well  over  his  eyes  and  bent  over  his  horse's  neck 
to  shield  his  face  from  the  driving  rain,  trusting  to 
the  animal's  sagacity  and  sure-footedness  to  take  him 
safely  down  the  cliff  road  in  the  darkness,  where  a  slip 
might  plunge  them  into  the  breakers  which  he  could 
hear  roaring  at  the  foot  of  the  cliffs. 

Hardly  had  Marsland  done  so  when  his  horse 
swerved  violently  right  across  the  road — fortunately 
to  the  side  opposite  the  edge  of  the  cliffs — slipped 
and  almost  fell,  but  recovered  itself  and  then  stood 
still,  snorting  and  trembling  with  fear. 

He  patted  and  spoke  to  the  horse,  wondering  what 
had  frightened  it.  He  had  seen  or  heard  nothing,  but 
the  darkness  of  the  night  and  the  roar  of  the  gale 
would  have  prevented  him,  even  if  his  face  had  not 
been  almost  buried  in  his  horse's  neck.  However,  the 
rain,  beating  with  sharp  persistence  on  his  face  and 
through  his  clothes,  reminded  him  that  he  was  some 

7 


2133389 


8         THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

miles  from  shelter  on  a  lonely  country  road,  with 
only  a  vague  idea  of  his  whereabouts.  So,  with 
a  few  more  soothing  words,  he  urged  his  horse  on- 
ward again.  The  animal  responded  willingly  enough, 
but  as  soon  as  it  moved  Marsland  discovered  to  his 
dismay  that  it  was  lame  in  the  off  hind  leg.  The 
rider  was  quick  to  realize  that  it  must  have  sprained 
itself  in  swerving. 

He  slipped  out  of  the  saddle  and  endeavoured  to 
feel  the  extent  of  the  horse's  injury,  but  the  animal 
had  not  entirely  recovered  from  its  fright,  and  snorted 
as  his  master  touched  it.  Marsland  desisted,  and 
gently  pulled  at  the  bridle. 

The  horse  struggled  onwards  a  few  paces,  but  it  was 
"badly  lamed,  and  could  not  be  ridden.  It  thrust  a 
timid  muzzle  against  its  master's  breast,  as  though 
seeking  refuge  from  its  fears  and  the  fury  of  the 
storm.  Marsland  patted  its  head  caressingly,  and,  fac- 
ing the  unpleasant  fact  that  he  was  on  an  unknown 
lonely  road  with  a  lame  horse  in  the  worst  storm  he 
had  ever  seen,  drew  the  bridle  over  his  arm  and  started 
to  walk  forward. 

He  found  it  difficult  to  make  progress  in  the  teeth 
of  the  gale,  but  he  realized  that  it  would  be  useless  to 
retrace  his  steps  with  the  wind  at  his  back,  for  only 
the  bleak  bare  downs  he  had  ridden  over  that  after- 
noon lay  behind,  and  the  only  house  he  had  seen  was 
a  shepherd's  cottage  on  the  hill-side  where  he  had 
stopped  to  inquire  his  way  before  the  storm  came  on. 
There  was  nothing  to  be  done  but  face  the  gale  and 
go  forward,  following  the  cliff  road  which  skirted 
the  downs,  or  to  seek  shelter  for  himself  and  his  horse 
at  the  way-side  house  until  the  fury  of  the  storm  had 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS         9 

abated.  Prudence  and  consideration  for  his  horse 
dictated  the  latter  course,  but  in  the  blackness  of  the 
night — which  hung  before  him  like  a  cloud — he  was 
unable  to  discern  a  twinkle  of  light  denoting  human 
habitation. 

The  storm  seemed  to  gather  fresh  force,  rushing  in 
from  the  sea  with  such  fury  that  Marsland  was  com- 
pelled to  stand  still  and  seek  shelter  beside  his  horse. 
As  he  stood  thus,  waiting  for  it  to  abate,  a  vivid  flash 
of  lightning  ran  across  the  western  sky,  revealing 
lividly  the  storm  clouds  flying  through  the  heavens, 
the  mountainous  yellow-crested  sea,  and  the  desolate, 
rain-beaten  downs ;  but  it  revealed,  also,  a  farm-house 
standing  in  the  valley  below,  a  little  way  back  from 
the  road  which  wound  down  towards  it  from  where 
Marsland  stood. 

The  lightning  died  away,  the  scene  it  had  illumined 
disappeared,  and  a  clap  of  thunder  followed.  Mars- 
land  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief.  He  judged  that  the 
house  was  less  than  half  a  mile  down  the  hill,  a 
large,  gaunt,  three-storied  stone  building,  with 
steeply  sloping  roof,  standing  back  from  the  road, 
with  a  barn  beside  it.  Doubtless  it  was  the  home 
of  a  sheep-farmer  of  the  downs,  who  would  at  any 
rate  afford  shelter  to  himself  and  his  horse  till  the 
violence  of  the  storm  had  passed. 

The  horse  responded  to  an  encouraging  appeal  as 
though  it  fully  understood,  and  Marsland  doggedly 
resumed  his  battle  with  the  storm.  The  road  slanted 
away  slightly  from  the  cliff  when  horse  and  rider 
had  covered  another  hundred  yards,  and  wound 
through  a  long  cutting  on  the  hill  which  afforded  some 
protection  from  the  gale,  enabling  them  to  make 


io        THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

quicker  progress.  But  still  Marsland  could  not  see  a 
yard  in  front  of  him.  Even  if  his  eyes  had  become 
accustomed  to  the  darkness,  the  heavy  rain,  beating 
almost  horizontally  on  his  face,  would  have  prevented 
him  seeing  anything. 

He  had  matches  in  his  pocket,  but  it  was  useless 
to  attempt  to  strike  them  in  such  a  wind,  and  he  re- 
proached himself  for  having  come  away  without  his 
electric  torch.  Slowly  and  cautiously  he  made  his  way 
down  the  road,  feeling  his  footsteps  as  he  went,  the 
tired  horse  following  obediently.  The  cutting  seemed 
a  long  one,  but  at  length  a  sudden  blast  of  wind,  roar- 
ing in  from  the  sea,  told  him  that  he  had  emerged  into 
the  open  again.  He  counted  off  another  hundred 
paces,  then  paused  anxiously. 

"The  house  ought  to  be  somewhere  on  the  left  down 
there,"  he  muttered,  staring  blindly  into  the  dark. 

He  wondered  in  an  irritated  fashion  why  there 
were  no  lights  showing  from  the  farm-house,  which 
he  felt  must  be  very  close  to  where  he  stood.  But  he 
recollected  that  farmers  kept  early  hours,  and  he  real- 
ized that  the  occupants  of  the  house  might  well  be 
excused  for  going  to  bed  on  such  a  night  even  earlier 
than  usual. 

As  though  in  answer  to  an  unspoken  wish,  a  flash  of 
lightning  played  over  the  sky.  It  was  faint  and  fitful, 
but  it  was  sufficient  to  reveal  the  farm  standing  a 
little  way  ahead,  about  a  hundred  yards  back  from  the 
road.  He  saw  clearly  the  hedge  which  divided  its 
meadows  from  the  road,  and  noted  that  a  gate  leading 
into  a  wagon  drive  on  the  side  of  the  meadow  nearest 
him  had  been  flung  open  by  the  force  of  the  gale,  and 
was  swinging  loosely  on  its  hinges. 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS        n 

'They'll  thank  me  for  closing  that  gate  if  they've 
got  any  stock  in  the  meadows,"  said  Marsland. 

The  swinging  white  gate  was  faintly  visible  in  the 
darkness  when  Marsland  came  close  to  it,  and  he 
turned  into  the  open  drive.  He  noticed  as  he  walked 
along  that  the  gale  was  not  so  severely  felt  inside  as 
out  on  the  road,  and  he  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
the  farm  was  in  a  more  sheltered  part  of  the  downs — 
was  probably  shielded  from  the  wind  by  the  hill 
through  which  the  cutting  ran. 

He  reflected  that  it  was  a  good  idea  to  build  in  a 
sheltered  spot  when  farming  on  low  downs  facing  the 
English  Channel.  He  was  glad  to  be  able  to  walk 
upright,  with  the  wind  behind  him  and  the  rain  on 
his  back  instead  of  beating  on  his  face.  For  one 
thing,  he  found  he  was  able  to  make  some  use  of  his 
eyes  in  spite  of  the  darkness,  and  soon  he  discerned 
the  house  looming  bleakly  ahead  of  him,  with  the 
barn  alongside. 

As  Marsland  passed  the  barn,  his  horse  surprised 
him  by  whinnying  sharply  and  plucking  the  loose 
bridle  from  his  arm.  He  felt  for  his  matchbox  and 
hastily  struck  a  match.  The  wind  extinguished  it,  but 
not  before  its  brief  splutter  of  light  showed  him  the 
horse  disappearing  through  an  open  doorway. 

He  followed  it  and  struck  another  match.  It  flared 
up  steadily  under  cover,  and  he  saw  that  he  was  in  a 
small  storehouse  attached  to  the  barn.  Gardening 
tools  were  neatly  piled  in  one  corner,  and  in 
another  were  a  stack  of  potatoes  and  some  bags  of 
grain.  His  horse  was  plucking  ravenously  at  one  of 
the  bags.  By  the  light  of  another  match  Marsland 
espied  an  old  lantern  hanging  on  a  nail  above  the  tools. 


12        THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

He  took  it  from  the  nail,  and  found  that  it  contained 
a  short  end  of  candle — a  sight  which  filled  him  with 
pleasure. 

He  found  a  tin  dish  on  top  of  the  cornstack,  opened 
one  of  the  bags,  poured  a  measure  of  oats  into  it,  and 
set  it  before  his  horse.  The  animal  eagerly  thrust 
his  nose  into  the  dish  and  commenced  to  eat.  Mars- 
land  patted  its  wet  flank,  and  then  examined  the  in- 
jured leg  by  the  light  of  the  lantern.  His  examina- 
tion failed  to  reveal  any  specific  injury  beyond  a  slight 
swelling,  though  the  horse  winced  restively  as  he 
touched  it. 

Marsland  left  the  horse  munching  contentedly  at  its 
food,  shut  the  door  of  the  storehouse  to  prevent  the 
animal  wandering  away,  and  set  out  for  the  house. 
The  light  of  the  lantern  showed  him  a  path  branching 
off  the  drive.  He  followed  it  till  the  outline  of  the 
house  loomed  before  him  out  of  the  darkness. 

The  path  led  across  the  front  of  the  house,  but 
Marsland  looked  in  vain  for  a  ray  of  light  in  the 
upper  stories  which  would  indicate  that  one  of  the 
inmates  was  awake.  He  walked  on  till  the  path  turned 
abruptly  into  a  large  porch,  and  he  knew  he  had 
reached  the  front  door.  Instead  of  knocking,  he 
walked  past  the  porch  in  order  to  see  if  there  was  any 
light  visible  on  the  far  side  of  the  house.  It  was  with 
pleasure  that  he  observed  a  light  glimmering  through 
the  second  window  on  the  ground  floor.  Judging  by 
the  position  of  the  window,  it  belonged  to  the  room 
immediately  behind  the  front  room  on  the  right  side 
of  the  house. 

Marsland  returned  to  the  porch  and  vigorously 
plied  the  knocker  on  the  door,  so  that  the  sound  should 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS        13 

be  heard  above  the  storm.  He  listened  anxiously  for 
approaching  footsteps  of  heavily-shod  feet,  but  the 
first  sound  he  heard  was  that  of  the  bolt  being  drawn 
back. 

"Where  have  you  been?"  exclaimed  a  feminine 
voice.  "I  have  been  wondering  what  could  have  hap- 
pened to  you." 

The  girl  who  had  opened  the  door  to  him  had  a 
candle  in  her  hand.  As  she  spoke,  she  shielded  the 
light  with  her  other  hand  and  lifted  it  to  his  face.  She 
uttered  a  startled  exclamation. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Marsland,  in  an  ingrati- 
ating tone.  "I  have  lost  my  way  and  my  horse  has 
gone  lame.  I  have  taken  the  liberty  of  putting  him 
in  the  outbuildings  before  coming  to  ask  you  for 
shelter  from  the  storm." 

"To  ask  me  ?"  she  repeated.  "Oh,  of  course.  Please 
come  in." 

Marsland  closed  the  door  and  followed  her  into  the 
dark  and  silent  hall.  She  led  the  way  into  the  room 
where  he  had  seen  the  light,  placed  the  candle  on  the 
table,  and  retreated  to  a  chair  which  was  in  the 
shadow.  It  occurred  to  him  that  she  was  anxious  to 
study  him  without  being  exposed  to  his  scrutiny.  But 
he  had  noticed  that  she  was  wearing  a  hat  and  a  dark 
cloak.  These  things  suggested  to  him  that  she  had 
been  on  the  point  of  going  out  when  the  storm  came 
on.  The  mistaken  way  in  which  she  had  greeted  him 
on  opening  the  door  seemed  to  show  that  she  had 
been  waiting  for  some  one  who  was  to  have  accom- 
panied her.  Apparently  she  was  alone  in  the  house 
when  he  had  knocked. 

"I  am  sorry  to  have  intruded  on  you  in  this  uncere- 


14        THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

monious  way,"  he  said,  reviving  his  apology  with  the 
object  of  enabling  her  to  dismiss  any  fears  at  her  own 
unprotected  state.  "I  am  completely  lost,  and  when 
I  saw  this  house  I  thought  the  best  thing  I  could  do 
was  to  seek  shelter." 

"You  are  not  intruding  upon  me,"  she  said  coldly. 
"The  house  is  not  mine — I  do  not  live  here.  I  saw 
the  storm  coming  on,  and,  like  you,  I  thought  it  was 
a  good  idea  to  seek  shelter." 

It  was  apparent  to  him  that  her  greeting  had  been 
intended  for  some  one  who  had  accompanied  her  to 
the  house  and  had  gone  to  one  of  the  farm  buildings 
for  some  purpose.  He  noted  that  her  manner  of 
speaking  was  that  of  a  well-bred  young  lady  rather 
than  of  a  farmer's  daughter. 

The  room  in  which  they  were  sitting  was  evidently 
used  as  a  parlour,  and  was  sombrely  furnished  in  an 
old-fashioned  way.  There  was  a  horsehair  suite,  and 
in  the  middle  of  the  room  a  large  round  table.  Glanc- 
ing about  him  into  the  dark  corners  of  the  room  which 
the  feeble  light  of  the  candle  barely  reached,  Mars- 
land  noticed  in  one  of  them  a  large  lamp  standing  on 
a  small  table. 

"That  will  give  us  a  better  light,"  he  said ;  "provid- 
ing, of  course,  it  has  some  oil  in  it." 

He  lifted  the  lamp  to  the  centre  table,  and  found  it 
was  nearly  full  of  oil.  He  lit  it,  and  it  sent  out  a 
strong  light,  which  was,  however,  confined  to  a  radius 
of  a  few  feet  by  a  heavy  lampshade.  He  glanced  at 
the  girl.  She  had  extinguished  her  candle,  and  her 
face  remained  obstinately  in  shadow. 

He  sat  down  on  one  of  the  horsehair  chairs ;  but  his 
companion  remained  standing  a  little  distance  away. 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS        15 

They  waited  in  silence  thus  for  some  minutes.  Mars- 
land  tried  to  think  of  something  to  say,  but  there  was 
a  pensive  aloofness  about  the  girl's  attitude  which  de- 
terred him  from  attempting  to  open  a  conversation 
with  a  conventional  remark  about  the  violence  of  the 
storm.  He  listened  for  a  knock  at  the  front  door 
which  would  tell  him  that  her  companion  had  re- 
turned, but  to  his  surprise  the  minutes  passed  without 
any  sign.  He  thought  of  asking  her  to  sit  down,  but 
he  reflected  that  such  an  invitation  might  savour  of 
impertinence.  He  could  dimly  see  the  outline  of  her 
profile,  and  judged  her  to  be  young  and  pretty.  Once 
he  thought  she  glanced  in  his  direction,  but  when  he 
looked  towards  her  she  had  her  face  still  turned  to- 
wards the  door.  Finally  he  made  another  effort  to 
break  down  the  barrier  of  silence  between  them. 

"I  suppose  we  must  wait  here  until  the  storm  has 
cleared  away,"  he  began.  "It  is  a  coincidence  that 
both  of  us  should  have  sought  shelter  in  this  empty 
house  in  the  storm — I  assume  the  house  is  empty  for 
the  time  being  or  we  would  have  heard  from  the 
inmates.  My  name  is  Marsland.  I  have  been  staying 
at  Staveley,  and  I  lost  my  way  when  out  riding  this 
afternoon — the  downs  seem  endless.  Perhaps  you 
belong  to  the  neighbourhood  and  know  them  thor- 
oughly." 

But  instead  of  replying  she  made  a  swift  step  to- 
wards the  door. 

"Listen!"  she  cried.     "What  was  that?" 

He  stood  up  also,  and  listened  intently,  but  the 
only  sounds  that  met  his  ears  were  the  beating  of  the 
rain  against  the  windows  and  the  wind  whistling 
mournfully  round  the  old  house. 


"I  hear  nothing "  he  commenced. 

But  she  interrupted  him  imperatively. 

"Hush!"  she  cried.  "Listen!"  Her  face  was  still 
turned  away  from  him,  but  she  held  out  a  hand  in  his 
direction  as  though  to  enjoin  silence. 

They  stood  in  silence,  both  listening  intently.  Some- 
where a  board  creaked,  and  Marsland  could  hear  the 
wind  blowing,  but  that  was  all. 

"I  do  not  think  it  was  anything,"  he  said  reassur- 
ingly. "These  old  houses  have  a  way  of  creaking  and 
groaning  in  a  gale.  You  have  become  nervous 
through  sitting  here  by  yourself." 

"Perhaps  that  is  so,"  she  assented,  in  a  friendlier 
tone  than  she  had  hitherto  used.  "But  I  thought — 
in  fact,  I  felt — that  somebody  was  moving  about 
stealthily  overhead." 

"It  was  the  wind  sighing  about  the  house,"  he  said, 
sitting  down  again. 

As  he  spoke,  there  was  a  loud  crash  in  a  room 
above — a  noise  as  though  china  or  glass  had  been 
broken.  Marsland  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"There  is  somebody  in  the  house,"  he  exclaimed. 

"Who  can  it  be?"  she  whispered. 

"Probably  some  one  who  has  more  right  here  than 
we  have,"  said  Marsland  soothingly.  "He'll  come 
downstairs  and  then  we'll  have  to  explain  our  presence 
here." 

"The  man  who  lives  here  is  away,"  she  replied,  in 
a  hushed  tone  of  terror.  "He  lives  here  alone.  If 
there  is  anybody  in  the  house,  it  is  some  one  who  has 
no  right  here." 

"If  you  are  sure  of  that,"  said  Marsland  slowly,  "I 
will  go  and  see  what  has  happened  in  the  room  above. 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS        17 

The  wind  may  have  knocked  something  over.  Will 
you  stay  here  until  I  return  ?" 

"No,  no!"  she  cried,  "I  am  too  frightened  now.  I 
will  go  with  you!" 

He  felt  her  hand  on  his  sleeve  as  she  spoke. 

"In  that  case  we  may  as  well  take  this  lamp,"  he 
said.  "It  will  give  more  light  than  this."  He  put 
down  his  lantern  and  picked  up  the  lamp  from  the 
table.  "Come  along,  and  see  what  havoc  the  wind  has 
been  playing  with  the  furniture  upstairs." 

He  led  the  way  out  of  the  room,  carefully  carrying 
the  lamp,  and  the  girl  followed.  They  turned  up  the 
hall  to  the  staircase.  As  the  light  of  the  lamp  fell  on 
the  staircase  they  saw  a  piece  of  paper  lying  on  one 
of  the  lower  stairs.  Marsland  picked  it  up  and  was 
so  mystified  at  what  he  saw  on  it  that  he  placed  the 
lamp  on  a  stair  above  in  order  to  study  it  more  closely. 

"What  can  this  extraordinary  thing  mean  ?"  he  said 
to  his  companion.  He  put  his  left  hand  in  the  top 
pocket  of  his  waistcoat,  and  then  exclaimed :  "I  have 
lost  my  glasses ;  I  cannot  make  this  out  without  them." 

She  came  close  to  him  and  looked  at  the  paper. 

The  sheet  was  yellow  with  age,  and  one  side  of  it 
was  covered  with  figures  and  writing.  There  was  a 
row  of  letters  at  the  top  of  the  sheet,  followed  by  a  cir- 
cle of  numerals,  with  more  numerals  in  the  centre  of 
the  circle.  Underneath  the  circle  appeared  several 
verses  of  Scripture  written  in  a  small,  cramped,  but 
regular  handwriting.  The  ink  which  had  been  used 
in  constructing  the  cryptogram  was  faded  brown  with 
age,  but  the  figures  and  the  writing  were  clear  and  legi- 
ble, and  the  whole  thing  bore  evidence  of  patient  and 
careful  construction. 


18        THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

"This  is  very  strange,"  she  said,  in  a  frightened 
whisper. 

Marsland  thought  she  was  referring  to  the  diagrams 
on  the  paper. 

"It  is  a  mysterious  sort  of  document,  whoever  owns 
it,"  he  said.  "I  think  I'll  put  it  on  the  table  in  there 
and  we  will  study  it  again  when  we  come  down  after 
exploring  the  other  parts  of  the  house." 

He  picked  up  the  lamp  and  went  back  to  the  room 
they  had  left.  He  deposited  the  sheet  of  paper  on  the 
table  and  placed  the  candlestick  on  it  to  keep  it  from 
being  blown  away  by  the  wind. 

"Now  for  the  ghosts  upstairs,"  he  said  cheerfully, 
as  he  returned. 

He  noted  with  a  smile  that  his  companion  made  a 
point  of  keeping  behind  him  in  all  his  movements. 
When  they  had  climbed  the  first  flight  of  stairs,  they 
stood  for  a  moment  or  two  on  the  landing,  listening, 
but  could  hear  no  sound. 

"Let  us  try  this  room  first,"  said  Marsland,  pointing 
to  a  door  opposite  the  landing. 

The  door  was  closed  but  not  shut,  for  it  yielded  to 
his  touch  and  swung  open,  revealing  a  large  bedroom 
with  an  old-fashioned  fourposter  in  the  corner  furth- 
est from  the  door.  Marsland  glanced  round  the  room 
curiously.  It  was  the  typical  "best  bedroom"  of  an 
old  English  farm-house,  built  more  than  a  hundred 
vears  before  the  present  generation  came  to  life,  with 
their  modern  ideas  of  fresh  air  and  light  and  sanita- 
tion. The  ceiling  was  so  low  that  Marsland  almost 
touched  it  with  his  head  as  he  walked,  and  the  small 
narrow-paned  windows,  closely  shuttered  from  with- 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS        19 

out,  looked  as  though  they  had  been  hermetically  sealed 
for  centuries. 

The  room  contained  furniture  as  ancient  as  its  sur- 
roundings: quaint  old  chests  of  drawers,  bureaux, 
clothes-presses,  and  some  old  straight-backed  oaken 
chairs.  On  the  walls  were  a  few  musty  old  books  on 
shelves,  a  stuffed  pointer  in  a  glass  case,  a  cabinet  of 
stuffed  birds,  some  dingy  hunting  prints.  The  com- 
bination of  low  ceiling,  sealed  windows,  and  stuffed 
animals  created  such  a  vault-like  atmosphere  that 
Marsland  marvelled  at  the  hardy  constitution  of  that 
dead  and  gone  race  of  English  yeomen  who  had  suf- 
fered nightly  internment  in  such  chambers  and  yet 
survived  to  a  ripe  old  age.  His  eyes  wandered  to 
the  fourposter,  and  he  smiled  as  he  noticed  that  the 
heavy  curtains  were  drawn  close,  as  though  the  last 
sleeper  in  the  chamber  had  dreaded  and  guarded 
against  the  possibility  of  some  stray  shaft  of  fresh 
air  eluding  the  precautions  of  the  builder  and  finding 
its  way  into  the  room. 

"Nothing  here,"  he  said,  as  he  glanced  round  the 
floor  of  the  room  for  broken  pieces  of  glass  or  china 
ornaments  that  might  have  been  knocked  over  by  the 
wind  or  by  a  cat.  "Let  us  try  the  room  opposite." 

She  was  the  first  to  reach  the  door  of  the  opposite 
room  to  which  they  turned.  It  occurred  to  Marsland 
that  her  fears  were  wearing  off.  As  he  reached  the 
threshold,  he  lifted  up  the  lamp  above  his  head  so 
that  its  light  should  fall  within. 

The  room  was  a  bedroom  also,  deep  and  narrow 
as  though  it  had  been  squeezed  into  the  house  as  an 
afterthought,  with  a  small,  deep-set  window  high  up 
in  the  wall  opposite  the  door.  The  room  was  fur- 


20       THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

nished  in  the  old-fashioned  style  of  the  room  op- 
posite, though  more  sparsely.  But  Marsland  and  the 
girl  were  astonished  to  see  a  man  sitting  motionless  in 
a  large  arm-chair  at  the  far  end  of  the  room.  His 
head  had  fallen  forward  on  his  breast  as  though  in 
slumber,  concealing  the  lower  part  of  his  face. 

"By  heavens,  this  is  extraordinary,"  said  Marsland, 
in  a  low  hoarse  voice.  With  a  trembling  hand  he 
placed  the  lamp  on  the  large  table  which  occupied  the 
centre  of  the  room  and  stood  looking  at  the  man. 

The  girl  crept  close  to  Marsland  and  clutched  his 
arm. 

"It  is  Frank  Lumsden,"  she  whispered  quickly.  "Do 
you  think  there  is  anything  wrong  with  him?  Why 
doesn't  he  speak  to  us?" 

"Because  he  is  dead,"  he  answered  swiftly. 

"Dead!"  she  exclaimed,  in  an  hysterical  tone. 
"What  makes  you  think  so?  He  may  be  only  in  a  fit. 
Oh,  what  shall  we  do?" 

Marsland  pushed  her  aside  and  with  a  firm  step 
walked  to  the  chair  on  which  the  motionless  figure 
sat.  He  touched  with  his  fingers  the  left  hand  which 
rested  on  the  arm  of  the  chair,  and  turned  quickly. 

"He  is  quite  dead,"  he  said  slowly.  "He  is  beyond 
all  help  in  this  world." 

"Dead?"  she  repeated,  retreating  to  the  far  end 
of  the  table  and  clasping  her  trembling  hands  together. 
"What  a  dreadful  lonely  death." 

He  was  deep  in  thought  and  did  not  respond  to 
her  words. 

"As  we  have  discovered  the  body  we  must  inform 
the  police,"  he  said  at  length. 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS        21 

"I  did  not  know  he  was  ill,"  she  said,  in  a  soft 
whisper.  "He  must  have  died  suddenly." 

Marsland  turned  on  her  a  searching  questioning 
look.  Her  sympathy  had  conquered  her  vague  fears 
of  the  presence  of  death,  and  she  hesitatingly  ap- 
proached the  body.  Something  on  the  table  near  the 
lamp  attracted  her  attention.  It  was  an  open  pocket- 
book  and  beside  it  were  some  papers  which  had  evi- 
dently been  removed  from  it. 

"What  does  this  mean  ?"  she  cried.  "Some  one  has 
been  here." 

"It  is  extraordinary,"  said  Marsland. 

He  stood  between  her  and  the  arm-chair  so  as  to 
hide  the  dead  body  from  her.  She  stepped  aside  as 
if  to  seek  in  the  appearance  of  the  dead  man  an 
explanation  of  the  rifled  pocket-book. 

"Don't!"  he  said  quickly,  as  he  grasped  her  by 
the  arm.  "Do  not  touch  it" 

His  desire  to  save  her  from  a  shock  awoke  her 
feminine  intuition. 

"You  mean  he  has  been  murdered  ?"  she  whispered, 
in  a  voice  of  dismay. 


CHAPTER  II 

SHE  hurried  from  the  room  in  terror.  Marsland 
remained  a  few  minutes  examining  the  papers  that 
had  been  taken  from  the  pocket-book. 

With  the  lamp  in  his  hand  he  was  compelled  to 
descend  cautiously,  and  when  he  reached  the  foot 
of  the  staircase  the  girl  had  left  the  house.  He  ex- 
tinguished the  lamp  he  was  carrying,  relit  the  lantern, 
and  stepped  outside.  The  lantern  showed  him  the 
girl  waiting  for  him  some  distance  down  the  path. 

"Oh,  let  us  leave  this  dreadful  house,"  she  cried  as 
he  approached.  "Please  take  me  out  of  it.  I  am 
not  frightened  of  the  storm — now." 

"I  will  take  you  wherever  you  wish  to  go,"  he  said 
gently.  "Will  you  tell  me  where  you  live?  I  will 
accompany  you  home." 

"You  are  very  good,"  she  said  gratefully.  "I  live 
at  Ashlingsea." 

"That  is  the  little  fishing  village  at  the  end  of  the 
cliff  road,  is  it  not?"  he  said  inquiringly.  "I  am 
staying  at  Staveley,  but  I  have  not  been  there  long. 
Come,  I  will  take  you  home,  and  then  I  will  inform 
the  police  about — this  tragic  discovery." 

"There  is  a  police  station  at  Ashlingsea,"  she  said, 
in  a  low  voice. 

He  explained  to  her  that  he  wanted  to  look  after 
the  comfort  of  his  horse  before  he  accompanied  her 
home,  as  it  would  be  necessary  to  leave  the  animal 

22 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS        23 

at  the  farm  until  the  following  day.  She  murmured 
a  faint  acquiescence,  and  when  they  reached  the  store- 
house she  took  the  lantern  from  him  without  speaking, 
and  held  it  up  to  give  him  light  while  he  made  his 
horse  comfortable  for  the  night. 

They  then  set  out  for  Ashlingsea.  The  violence  of 
the  storm  had  passed,  but  the  wind  occasionally  blew 
in  great  gusts  from  the  sea,  compelling  them  to  halt 
in  order  to  stand  up  against  it.  The  night  was 
still  very  black,  but  at  intervals  a  late  moon  man- 
aged to  send  a  watery  beam  through  the  scudding 
storm  clouds,  revealing  the  pathway  of  the  winding 
cliff  road,  and  the  turbulent  frothing  waste  of  water 
dashing  on  the  rocks  below.  Rain  continued  to  fall 
in  heavy  frequent  showers,  but  the  minds  of  Marsland 
and  his  companion  were  so  occupied  with  what  they 
had  seen  in  the  old  farm-house  that  they  were  scarcely 
conscious  of  the  discomfort  of  getting  wet. 

The  girl  was  so  unnerved  by  the  discovery  of  the 
dead  body  that  she  was  glad  to  avail  herself  of  the 
protection  and  support  of  Marsland's  arm.  Several 
times  as  she  thought  she  saw  a  human  form  in  the 
darkness  of  the  road,  she  uttered  a  cry  of  alarm  and 
clung  to  his  arm  with  both  hands.  At  every  step  she 
expected  to  encounter  a  maniac  who  had  the  blood 
of  one  human  creature  on  his  hands  and  was  still 
swayed  by  the  impulse  to  kill. 

The  reserve  she  had  exhibited  in  the  house  had 
broken  down,  and  she  talked  freely  in  her  desire  to 
shut  out  from  her  mental  vision  the  spectacle  of  the 
murdered  man  sitting  in  the  arm-chair. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  discovery  of  the  body  had 
made  Marsland  reserved  and  thoughtful. 


24        THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

He  learned  from  her  that  her  name  was  Maynard — 
Elsie  Maynard — and  that  she  lived  with  her  widowed 
mother.  Marsland  was  quick  to  gather  from  the  cul- 
tivated accents  of  her  voice  that  she  was  a  refined 
and  educated  girl.  He  concluded  that  Mrs.  Maynard 
must  be  a  lady  of  some  social  standing  in  the  district, 
and  he  judged  from  what  he  had  seen  of  the  girl's 
clothes  that  she  was  in  good  circumstances.  She  re- 
marked that  her  mother  would  be  anxious  about  her, 
but  would  doubtless  assume  she  had  sought  shelter 
somewhere,  as  having  lived  in  Ashlingsea  for  a  long 
time  she  knew  everybody  in  the  district. 

Marsland  thought  it  strange  that  she  made  no  refer- 
ence to  the  companion  who  had  accompanied  her  to 
the  farm.  If  no  one  accompanied  her,  how  was  it 
that  on  opening  the  door  to  him  she  had  greeted  him 
as  some  one  whom  she  had  been  expecting?  She 
seemed  unconscious  of  the  need  of  enlightening  him 
on  this  point.  Her  thoughts  centred  round  the  dead 
man  to  such  an  extent  that  her  conversation  related 
chiefly  to  him.  Half-unconsciously  she  revealed  that 
she  knew  him  well,  but  her  acquaintance  with  him 
seemed  to  be  largely  based  on  the  circumstance  that 
the  dead  man  had  been  acquainted  with  a  friend  of 
her  family:  a  soldier  of  the  new  army,  who  lived  at 
Staveley. 

She  had  told  Marsland  that  the  name  of  the  mur- 
dered man  was  Frank  Lumsden,  but  she  did  not  men- 
tion the  name  of  the  soldier  at  Staveley.  Lumsden 
had  served  in  France  as  a  private,  but  had  returned 
wounded  and  had  been  invalided  out  of  the  army. 
He  had  been  captured  by  the  Germans  during  a  night 
attack,  had  been  shot  through  the  palm  of  his  right 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS        25 

hand  to  prevent  him  using  a  rifle  again,  and  had  been 
left  behind  when  the  Germans  were  forced  to  retreat 
from  the  village  they  had  captured.  After  being  in- 
valided out  of  the  Army  he  had  returned  home  to  live 
in  the  old  farm-house — Cliff  Farm  it  was  called — 
which  had  been  left  to  him  by  his  grandfather,  who 
had  died  while  the  young  man  was  in  France.  The 
old  man  had  lived  in  a  state  of  terror  during  the  last 
few  months  of  his  life,  as  he  was  convinced  that  the 
Germans  were  going  to  invade  England,  destroy  every- 
thing, and  murder  the  population  as  they  had  done  in 
Belgium.  He  ceased  to  farm  his  land,  he  dismissed 
his  men,  and  shut  himself  up  in  his  house. 

His  housekeeper,  Mrs.  Thorpe,  who  had  been  in  his 
service  for  thirty  years,  refused  to  leave  him,  and 
insisted  on  remaining  to  look  after  him.  When  he 
died  as  the  result  of  injuries  received  in  falling  down- 
stairs, it  was  found  that  he  had  left  most  of  his  prop- 
erty to  his  grandson,  Frank,  but  he  had  also  left 
legacies  to  Mrs.  Thorpe  and  two  of  the  men  who  had 
been  in  his  employ  for  a  generation.  But  these 
legacies  had  not  been  paid  because  there  was  no 
money  with  which  to  pay  them.  Soon  after  the  out- 
break of  the  war  the  old  man  had  drawn  all  his  money 
out  of  the  bank  and  had  realized  all  his  investments. 
It  was  thought  that  he  had  done  this  because  of  his 
fear  of  a  German  invasion. 

What  he  had  done  with  the  money  no  one  knew. 
Most  people  thought  he  had  buried  it  for  safety,  in- 
tending to  dig  it  up  when  the  war  was  over.  There 
was  a  rumour  that  he  had  buried  it  on  the  farm.  An- 
other rumour  declared  that  he  had  buried  it  in  the 
sands  at  the  foot  of  the  cliffs,  for  towards  the  end 


26        THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

of  his  life  he  was  often  seen  walking  alone  on  the 
sands.  In  his  younger  days  he  had  combined  fishing 
with  farming,  and  there  was  still  a  boat  in  the  old 
boat-house  near  the  cliffs.  Several  people  tried  dig- 
ging in  likely  places  in  the  sands  after  his  death,  but 
they  did  not  find  any  trace  of  the  money.  Other  peo- 
ple said  that  Frank  Lumsden  knew  where  the  money 
was  hidden — that  his  grandfather  had  left  a  plan  ex- 
plaining where  he  had  buried  it. 

"What  about  the  piece  of  paper  with  the  mysterious 
plan  on  it  which  we  found  on  the  staircase?"  said 
Marsland.  "Do  you  think  that  had  anything  to  do 
with  the  hidden  money?" 

"I  never  thought  of  that,"  she  said.  "Perhaps  it 
had." 

"We  left  it  on  the  table  in  the  room  downstairs," 
he  said.  "I  think  we  ought  to  go  back  for  it,  as  it 
may  have  something  to  do  with  the  murder." 

"Don't  go  back,"  she  said.  "I  could  not  bear  to 
go  back.  The  paper  will  be  there  when  the  police 
go.  No  one  will  go  there  in  the  meantime,  so  it  will 
be  quite  safe." 

"But  you  remember  that  his  pocket-book  had  been 
rifled,"  he  said,  as  he  halted  to  discuss  the  question  of 
returning.  "May  not  that  plan  have  been  taken  from 
his  pocket-book  after  he  was  dead?" 

"But  in  that  case  how  did  it  come  on  the  staircase  ?" 

"It  was  dropped  there  by  the  man  who  stole  it 
from  the  pocket-book." 

"He  will  be  too  frightened  to  go  back  for  it,"  she 
declared  confidently.  "He  would  be  afraid  of  being 
caught." 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS        27 

"But  he  may  have  been  in  the  house  while  we  were 
there,"  he  replied.  "We  did  not  solve  the  mystery  of 
the  crash  \ve  heard  when  we  were  in  the  room  up- 
stairs." 

"You  said  at  the  time  it  was  possibly  caused  by  the 
wind  upsetting  something." 

He  was  amused  at  the  inconsequence  of  the  line  of 
reasoning  she  adopted  in  order  to  prevent  him  going 
back  for  the  plan. 

"At  the  time  we  did  not  know  there  was  a  dead 
body  upstairs,"  he  said. 

"Do  you  think  the  murderer  was  in  the  house 
while  we  were  there  ?"  she  asked. 

"It  is  impossible  to  say  definitely.  My  own  impres- 
sion now  is  that  some  one  was  in  the  house — that  the 
crash  we  heard  was  not  caused  by  the  wind." 

"Then  he  must  have  been  there  while  I  was  sitting 
downstairs  before  you  came,"  she  said,  with  a  shiver 
at  the  thought  of  the  danger  that  was  past. 

"Yes,"  he  answered.  "The  fact  that  you  had  a 
candle  alight  kept  him  upstairs.  He  was  afraid  of 
discovery.  When  we  went  upstairs  to  the  first  floor 
he  must  have  retreated  to  the  second  floor — the  top 
story." 

She  remained  deep  in  thought  for  a  few  moments. 

"I  am  glad  he  did  not  come  down,"  she  said  at 
length.  "I  am  glad  I  did  not  see  who  it  was." 

Again  Marsland  was  reminded  of  the  way  in  which 
she  had  greeted  him  at  the  door.  Could  it  be  that, 
instead  of  having  gone  to  the  farm  for  shelter  with 
a  companion,  she  had  gone  there  to  meet  some  one, 
and  that  unknown  to  her  the  person  she  was  to  meet 


28        THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

had  reached  the  house  before  her  and  had  remained 
hidden  upstairs? 

"Did  you  close  the  front  door  when  we  left?"  she 
asked. 

"Yes.  I  slammed  it  and  I  heard  the  bolt  catch. 
Why  do  you  ask  ?" 

"There  is  something  I  want  to  ask  you,"  she  said, 
at  length. 

"What  is  it?" 

"I  want  you  to  promise  if  you  can  that  you  will 
not  tell  the  police  that  I  was  at  Cliff  Farm  to- 
night; I  want  you  to  promise  that  you  will  not  tell 
any  one." 

"Do  you  think  it — wise?"  he  asked,  after  a  pause 
in  which  he  gave  consideration  to  the  request. 

"I  do  not  want  to  be  mixed  up  in  it  in  any  way," 
she  explained.  "The  tragedy  will  give  rise  to  a  lot  of 
talk  in  the  place.  I  would  not  like  my  name  to  be 
mixed  up  in  it." 

"I  quite  appreciate  that,"  he  said.  "And  as  far  as  it 
goes  I  would  be  willing  to  keep  your  name  out  of  it. 
But  have  you  considered  what  the  effect  would  be  if 
the  police  subsequently  discovered  that  you  had  been 
there?  That  would  give  rise  to  greater  talk — to  talk 
of  a  still  more  objectionable  kind." 

"Yes ;  but  how  are  they  to  discover  that  I  was 
there  unless  you  tell  them?"  she  asked. 

He  laughed  softly. 

"They  have  to  try  to  solve  a  more  difficult  problem 
than  that  without  any  one  to  tell  them  the  solution," 
he  said.  "They  have  to  try  to  find  out  who  killed  this 
man  Lumsden — and  why  he  was  killed.  There  will 
be  two  or  three  detectives  making  all  sorts  of  in- 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS        29 

quiries.  One  of  them  might  alight  accidentally  on 
the  fact  that  you,  like  myself,  had  taken  shelter  there 
in  the  storm." 

She  took  refuge  in  the  privilege  of  her  sex  to  place 
a  man  in  the  wrong  by  misinterpreting  his  motives. 

"Of  course,  if  you  do  not  wish  to  do  it,  there  is 
no  reason  why  you  should."  She  removed  her  hand 
from  his  arm. 

He  pulled  her  up  with  a  sharpness  which  left  on 
her  mind  the  impression  that  he  was  a  man  who 
knew  his  own  mind. 

"Please  understand  that  I  am  anxious  to  do  the 
best  I  can  for  you  without  being  absurdly  quixotic 
about  it.  I  am  quite  willing  to  keep  your  name  out 
of  it  in  the  way  you  ask,  but  I  am  anxious  that  you 
should  first  realize  the  danger  of  the  course  you  sug- 
gest. It  seems  to  me  that,  in  order  to  avoid  the 
unpleasantness  of  allowing  it  to  be  publicly  known  that 
you  shared  with  me  the  discovery  of  this  tragedy,  you 
are  courting  the  graver  danger  which  would  attach  to 
the  subsequent  difficulty  of  offering  a  simple  and  sat- 
isfactory explanation  to  the  police  of  why  you  wanted 
to  keep  your  share  in  the  discovery  an  absolute  secret. 
And  you  must  remember  that  your  explanation  to  me 
of  how  you  came  to  the  farm  is  rather  vague.  It  is 
true  that  you  said  you  went  there  for  shelter  from 
the  storm.  But  you  have  not  explained  how  you  got 
into  the  house,  and  from  the  way  you  spoke  to  me 
when  you  opened  the  door  it  is  obvious  that  you  ex- 
pected to  see  some  one  else  who  was  not  a  stranger." 

She  came  to  a  halt  in  the  road  in  order  to  put  a 
direct  question  to  him. 

"Do  you  think  that  I  had  anything  to  do  with  this 


30        THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

dreadful  murder?  Do  you  think  that  is  the  reason  I 
asked  you  to  keep  my  name  out  of  it?" 

"I  am  quite  sure  that  you  had  nothing  whatever  to 
do  with  the  tragedy — that  the  discovery  of  the  man's 
dead  body  was  as  great  a  surprise  to  you  as  it  was 
to  me." 

"Thank  you,"  she  said.  The  emphasis  of  his 
declaration  imparted  a  quiver  to  her  expression  of 
gratitude.  "You  are  quite  right  about  my  expecting 
to  see  some  one  else  when  I  opened  the  door,"  she 
said.  "I  expected  to  see  Mr.  Lumsden." 

"Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  never  thought  of  that." 
He  flushed  at  the  way  in  which  her  simple  explanation 
had  convicted  him  of  having  harboured  unjust  sus- 
picions against  her. 

"I  went  to  the  farm  to  see  him — I  had  a  message 
for  him,"  she  continued,  with  seeming  candour.  "The 
storm  came  on  just  before  I  reached  the  house.  I 
knocked,  but  no  one  came,  and  then  I  noticed  the 
key  was  in  the  lock  on  the  outside  of  the  door.  Nat- 
urally I  thought  Mr.  Lumsden  had  left  it  there — that 
when  he  saw  the  storm  he  had  gone  to  the  stable 
or  cowshed  to  attend  to  a  horse  or  a  cow.  I  went 
inside  the  house,  expecting  he  would  be  back  every 
moment.  When  I  heard  your  knock  I  thought  it  was 
he." 

"I  am  afraid  you  must  think  me  a  dreadful  boor," 
he  said.  "I  apologize  most  humbly." 

She  replied  with  a  breadth  of  view  that  in  its  con- 
trast with  his  ungenerous  suspicions  added  to  his 
embarrassment. 

"No,  you  were  quite  right,"  she  said.  "As  I  asked 
you  to  keep  my  name  out  of  it — as  I  virtually  asked 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS        31 

you  to  show  blind  trust  in  me — you  were  at  least  en- 
titled to  the  fullest  explanation  of  how  I  came  to  be 
there." 

"And  I  hope  you  quite  understand  that  I  do  trust 
you  absolutely,"  he  said.  "I  know  as  well  as  it  is 
possible  to  know  anything  in  this  world  that  you  were 
not  connected  in  the  remotest  way  with  the  death  of 
this  man." 

Having  been  lifted  out  of  the  atmosphere  of  sus- 
picion, she  felt  she  could  safely  enter  it  again. 

"I  was  not  quite  candid  with  you  when  I  asked  you 
to  keep  me  out  of  the  dreadful  tragedy  because  of  the 
way  I  would  be  talked  about,"  she  said,  placing  a 
penitent  and  appealing  hand  on  his  arm.  "There  are 
other  reasons — one  other  reason  at  least — why  I  do 
not  want  it  known  I  was  at  Cliff  Farm  to-night." 

He  was  prepared  to  shield  her  if  she  was  prepared 
to  take  the  risk  of  being  shielded. 

"That  alters  the  case,"  he  said.  "My  reluctance  to 
keep  your  name  out  of  it  arose  from  the  fear  that 
you  did  not  realize  the  risk  you  would  run." 

"I  realize  it,"  she  said.  "And  I  wish  to  thank  you 
for  pointing  it  out  so  clearly.  But  it  is  a  risk  I  must 
take." 

"In  that  case  you  can  rely  on  me." 

"You  will  keep  my  name  out  of  it?"  she  asked. 

"I  will  tell  no  one.."  he  replied. 


CHAPTER  III 

"!T  seems  to  me  as  if  the  storm  is  abating,"  said 
Sir  George  Granville  to  his  week-end  guest. 

He  moved  a  piece  on  the  chess-board  and  then  got 
up  from  his  chair  and  went  to  the  window  to  listen 
to  the  rain  on  the  glass. 

His  guest  was  so  intent  on  the  chess-board  that  he 
did  not  reply.  Sir  George  Granville  remained  at  the 
window,  his  attention  divided  between  watching  for 
his  opponent's  next  move  and  listening  to  the  storm. 

Sir  George's  opponent  was  a  young  man ;  that  is  to 
say,  he  was  under  forty.  He  was  evidently  tall,  and 
his  well-cut  clothes  indicated  that  he  possessed  the 
well-built  frame  which  is  the  natural  heritage  of  most 
young  Englishmen  of  good  class.  But  his  clear-cut, 
clean-shaven  face  suggested  that  its  owner  was  a  man 
of  unusual  personality  and  force  of  character.  It  was 
a  remarkable  face  which  would  have  puzzled  the  stu- 
dent in  physiognomy.  The  upper  portion  was  purely 
intellectual  in  type,  the  forehead  broad,  and  the  head 
well-shaped,  but  the  dark  eyes,  with  a  touch  of  dream- 
iness and  sadness  in  their  depths,  contrasted  strangely 
with  the  energy  and  determination  indicated  by  the 
firm  mouth  and  heavy  lower  jaw. 

The  guest  moved  a  piece  and  then  looked  at  his  host. 

"You  are  not  yourself  to-night,  Sir  George,"  he 
said.  "I  think  we  had  better  finish  this  game  some 
other  time,  or  cancel  it." 

32 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS        33 

Sir  George  walked  over  to  the  table  and  looked  at 
the  position  on  the  chess-board. 

"Perhaps  it  would  be  better  to  cancel  it,"  he  said, 
"though  it  is  generous  on  your  part  to  offer  to  do  so, 
with  a  piece  to  the  good  and  the  threatening  develop- 
ment of  your  pawns  on  the  queen's  side.  But  I  am 
off  my  game  to-night.  I  am  too  worried  about  that 
nephew  of  mine  to  give  you  a  good  game." 

"It  is  a  bad  night  to  be  out,"  said  the  guest.  "But 
surely  he  would  find  shelter  somewhere  in  the  downs." 

"He  may  have  met  with  an  accident.  He  must 
have  seen  this  storm  coming.  He  should  have  been 
home  hours  ago  in  any  case." 

"Putting  aside  the  possibility  of  an  accident,  the 
fact  that  he  hasn't  turned  up  in  the  storm  indicates 
that  he  has  found  shelter,"  said  the  guest.  "He  is 
waiting  until  the  storm  is  over." 

"But  on  the  downs  there  are  so  few  places  where 
one  can  obtain  shelter  except  at  a  shepherd's  cottage." 

Sir  George  sat  down  in  an  arm-chair  near  the  fire 
and  invited  his  guest  to  take  the  chair  on  the  other 
side.  The  room  they  were  in  was  a  large  one,  ex- 
pensively furnished  in  black  oak.  The  small  chess- 
table  with  the  chess-board  and  men  had  been  placed 
near  the  large  table  in  the  centre  of  the  room  for 
the  benefit  of  the  light,  but  the  autumn  night  was 
chilly,  and  the  fire  comfortable,  and  an  open  box  of 
cigars  and  spirit-stand  close  by  enhanced  the  appear- 
ance of  indoor  comfort.  After  his  guest  had  declined 
a  drink,  Sir  George  mixed  himself  a  whisky  and  soda 
and  settled  himself  in  an  easy  chair.  His  guest  lit  a 
cigar. 

They  had  been  seated  in  front  of  the  fire  but  a  few 

D 


34        THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

minutes  when  the  sound  of  the  telephone  bell  was 
heard  in  the  hall.  Sir  George  jumped  to  his  feet  with 
an  alacrity  that  was  surprising  in  a  man  of  his  weighty 
figure. 

"Perhaps  that  is  Harry,"  he  said  to  his  guest  as  he 
hurried  into  the  hall. 

The  guest  lit  another  cigar  and  leaned  back  in  his 
chair  as  he  awaited  the  return  of  his  host.  The  length 
of  time  Sir  George  was  at  the  telephone  would  indi- 
cate to  some  extent  the  nature  of  the  conversation. 
An  absence  of  over  a  minute  would  suggest  good 
news,  and  that  his  host  was  desirous  of  obtaining  the 
full  measure  of  it.  To  the  surprise  of  the  guest,  five 
minutes  elapsed  without  any  sign  of  the  return  of  his 
host.  That  the  telephone  conversation  should  have 
lasted  so  long  seemed  improbable. 

The  guest,  with  a  delicate  regard  for  what  was  due 
to  a  host,  tried  to  keep  his  active  mind  from  specu- 
lating on  the  nature  of  the  news  by  telephone  that  was 
keeping  Sir  George  away.  He  got  up  to  examine  the 
paintings  on  the  wall,  but  found  little  in  them  to  claim 
his  attention.  Nearly  a  quarter  of  an  hour  had  elapsed 
since  the  telephone  bell  had  rung.  With  a  smile  the 
guest  returned  to  his  chair.  He  had  alighted  on  a 
solution  of  his  host's  long  absence:  Sir  George  had 
received  good  news  and  had  gone  upstairs  to  announce 
it  to  his  wife. 

Lady  Granville  was  the  second  wife  of  Sir  George, 
and  was  many  years  his  junior.  The  baronet  was 
sixty-four,  and  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  he  was  an 
experienced  man  of  the  world,  whose  wealth  enabled 
him  to  get  his  own  way,  he  was  easily  managed  by 
his  beautiful  young  wife. 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS        35 

i 

Sir  George,  with  a  passion  for  chess  and  a  predilec- 
tion for  a  quiet  life,  had  at  the  instance  of  his  wife, 
taken  a  big  house  on  the  front  at  the  fashionable 
resort  of  Staveley  and  had  plunged  into  its  social 
gaieties.  That  afternoon  he  had  revolted  to  the  extent 
of  excusing  himself  from  accompanying  her  to  a  gar- 
den fete  in  aid  of  the  funds  of  the  Red  Cross  by 
declaring  that  he  must  stay  at  home  to  welcome  his 
guest,  who  was  to  motor  down  from  London.  Lady 
Granville  had  gone  unaccompanied  to  the  fete,  and 
on  her  return  home  had  adopted  the  wifely  revenge  of 
retiring  to  rest  early,  on  the  grounds  that  she  had 
a  severe  headache. 

When  Sir  George  returned  to  his  guest  he  was  in  a 
happy  state  of  mind. 

"It  was  he,  Crewe,"  he  exclaimed. 

"And  nothing  wrong?"  asked  Crewe. 

"No,  nothing  wrong  with  him,"  was  the  reply.  "But 
he  has  had  the  most  extraordinary  adventure — grue- 
some, in  fact." 

"Gruesome?"  The  tone  in  which  Crewe  repeated 
the  word  showed  that  his  interest  had  been  aroused. 

"Well,  you  might  not  call  it  gruesome,  Crewe,  as 
you  have  had  so  much  to  do  with  gruesome  tragedies, 
but  the  fact  of  the  matter  is  the  boy  seems  to  have 
discovered  a  murder." 

"A  murder?" 

"That  is  how  the  police  look  at  it,  he  says.  Harry 
rang  me  up  from  the  police  station  at  Ashlingsea — 
a  fishing  village  about  twelve  miles  from  here  along 
the  coast.  His  horse  went  lame  and  he  was  caught  in 
the  storm.  He  came  across  an  old  farm-house  and 
went  there  for  shelter,  but  he  found  the  house  was 


36        THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

empty.  He  got  in  somehow,  and  on  going  upstairs 
found  the  dead  body  of  a  young  man — the  owner  of 
the  farm.  Lumsden  the  owner's  name  is ;  quite  a  boy, 
that  is  to  say,  something  under  thirty.  Cliff  Farm 
is  the  name  of  the  place.  I  know  it  well — I  have 
often  passed  it  while  out  motoring." 

"How  was  he  killed — did  your  nephew  say?" 

"Shot." 

"The  dead  body  was  there  and  the  house  empty," 
said  Crewe,  in  a  meditative  voice.  "That  looks  as  if 
the  police  will  not  have  much  difficulty  in  picking  up 
the  scent.  The  fact  that  he  would  be  alone  could  not 
have  been  known  to  many  people." 

"I  suppose  not.  I  do  not  profess  to  be  quite  clear 
about  everything  Harry  told  me  because  I  was  so 
pleased  to  hear  his  voice  and  so  astonished  at  his  ad- 
yenture.  I  went  straight  upstairs  and  told  my  wife.  I 
know  she  was  anxious  about  Harry  though  she  said 
nothing  before  retiring — that  is  her  way.  Of  course  I 
only  told  her  that  Harry  was  safe.  I  said  nothing  about 
a  murder  because  it  would  upset  her.  But,  as  I  was 
saying,  this  young  Lumsden,  according  to  what  Harry 
has  learned  from  the  police  sergeant  at  Ashlingsea, 
lived  alone.  He  didn't  farm  his  land :  he  was  a  bit  of 
a  recluse." 

"How  far  away  is  his  farm?"  asked  Crewe. 

"About  nine  or  ten  miles  from  here.  What  about 
motoring  over  in  the  morning?" 

"Can  we  pick  up  your  nephew?  I  should  like  to 
hear  his  account  at  first  hand." 

"We  can  go  over  to  Ashlingsea  first  and  bring  him 
back  to  the  farm  with  us.  He  is  staying  at  an  inn 
there,  but  I  can  get  the  Ashlingsea  police  station, 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS        37 

from  where  Harry  rang  up,  to  let  him  know  that  we 
will  be  over  for  him  in  the  car  in  the  morning." 

Crewe  nodded.  Sir  George  mixed  himself  another 
whisky  and  soda,  and  lit  a  cigar.  Crewe  also  lit  a 
cigar,  and  then  they  settled  themselves  in  front  of  the 
fire  for  a  chat  before  retiring. 

The  tie  between  the  great  crime  investigator  and  his 
host  was  chess.  Sir  George  Granville  had  been  in 
the  front  rank  of  English  chess-players  when  Crewe 
disappointed  the  chess  world  by  suddenly  retiring  from 
match  chess,  at  the  outset  of  a  brilliant  career,  in  order 
to  devote  his  wonderful  gifts  of  intuition  and  insight 
to  crime  detection.  His  intellect  was  too  vigorous 
and  active  to  be  satisfied  with  the  sedate  triumphs  of 
chess ;  his  restless  temperament  and  vital  force  needed 
a  wider  and  more  vigorous  scope. 

But,  despite  the  wide  fame  he  had  won  as  a  crimi- 
nologist,  chess  enthusiasts  still  shook  their  heads  when 
his  name  was  mentioned,  as  people  are  wont  to  do 
when  they  hear  the  name  of  a  man  of  brilliant  parts 
who  has  not  made  the  most  of  his  life.  It  was  noth- 
ing to  them  that  Crewe  had  achieved  fame  in  the  role 
he  had  chosen  for  himself;  that  the  press  frequently 
praised  him  as  a  public  benefactor  who  had  brought 
to  justice  many  dangerous  criminals  who  would  have 
escaped  punishment  but  for  his  subtle  skill.  These 
were  vain  triumphs  for  a  man  who  had  beaten  Tur- 
gieff  and  the  young  South  American  champion,  and 
had  seemed  destined  to  bring  the  world's  champion- 
ship to  England. 

The  chess  tie  between  Crewe  and  Sir  George  Gran- 
ville had  long  ago  strengthened  into  mutual  regard. 
Sir  George  liked  and  admired  Crewe,  though  he  did 


38        THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

not  understand  the  depths  of  his  character.  Crewe 
respected  the  baronet  for  the  shrewd  ability  with 
which  he  controlled  his  large  interests,  and  the  fact 
that  he  had  never  allowed  his  career  as  a  business 
man  to  warp  the  kindliness  of  his  nature  or  interfere 
with  the  natural  generosity  of  his  disposition. 

They  talked  of  various  things :  of  chess,  at  first,  as 
is  inevitable  with  two  chess-players.  Sir  George  pulled 
up  the  chess-table  and  reset  the  abandoned  game  in 
order  to  see  if  there  was  not  some  defence  to  Black's 
position  at  the  stage  when  the  game  was  abandoned — 
the  baronet  had  played  with  the  black  pieces.  He 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  there  wasn't,  and  con- 
gratulated Crewe  on  his  attack. 

"Do  you  know,  I  cannot  help  regretting  sometimes 
that  you  have  practically  given  up  the  game,"  he  added, 
as  he  placed  the  ivory  chess-men  one  by  one  in  the 
box.  "It  is  a  long  while  since  England  has  had  a 
really  great  chess-player." 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  replied  Crewe.  "There  are 
more  things  in  life  than  chess." 

"Some  people  do  not  think  so,"  replied  Sir  George, 
with  a  smile.  "Your  old  opponent  Merton  was  tell- 
ing me  at  the  club  the  other  night  that  he  would 
consider  his  life  had  been  well  spent  if  he  could  but 
find  a  sound  answer  to  that  new  opening  of  Talsker's." 

"That  is  proof  that  chess  gets  hold  of  one  too 
much,"  replied  Crewe,  with  an  answering  smile. 

"Still,  you  might  have  been  champion  of  England," 
pursued  Sir  George  meditatively. 

Crewe  shrugged  his  shoulders  slightly. 

"One  cannot  have  it  both  ways,"  he  said. 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS        39 

"You  prefer  crime  investigation  to  chess?"  contin- 
ued Sir  George  inquiringly. 

"In  some  ways — yes.  Both  have  their  fascination, 
but  in  chess  the  human  element  is  lacking.  It  is  true 
you  have  an  opponent,  but  he  is  not  like  your  hidden 
opponent  in  crime.  When  your  hidden  opponent  has 
intelligence,  then  the  game  is  wonderful — while  it 
lasts.  But  intelligence  in  crime  is  as  rare  as  it  is  in 
every  other  walk  of  life.  Most  crimes  are  like  chess 
problems — once  you  find  the  key-move,  the  rest  is  easy. 
The  really  perfect  crime  mystery  is  as  rare  as  a  per- 
fect chess  problem.  As  a  rule,  the  machinery  of  the 
human  brain  is  not  delicately  adjusted  enough,  or 
sufficiently  complex,  to  devise  a  problem  both  complex 
and  subtle  in  crime — or  in  chess." 

Sir  George  did  not  speak.  It  was  so  rarely  that 
Crewe  could  be  induced  to  speak  of  his  experiences 
in  crime  investigation  that  he  did  not  wish  to  check 
him  by  interrupting.  But  Crewe  showed  no  sign  of 
continuing.  He  sighed  slightly,  threw  his  half-smoked 
cigar  into  the  fire,  produced  a  large  brierwood  pipe 
with  an  amber  mouthpiece,  and  slowly  filled  it,  with 
his  eyes  fixed  on  the  flames. 

They  remained  thus  for  some  moments  in  silence, 
though  Sir  George  kept  glancing  from  time  to  time 
at  his  companion.  Several  times  the  baronet  was 
on  the  verge  of  speaking,  but  checked  himself. 
At  length  Crewe,  without  looking  away  from  the 
fire,  said : 

"You  would  like  to  ask  me  to  go  into  this  case 
your  nephew  has  discovered  to-night,  but  you  do  not 
think  it  would  be  quite  courteous  on  your  part  to  do 
so,  because  I  am  your  guest." 


40        THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

"Well,  yes,  I  was  thinking  that,  though  I  don't 
know  how  you  guessed  it,"  said  Sir  George,  in  some 
surprise.  "For  more  reasons  than  one  I  am  worried 
about  my  nephew  getting  mixed  up  with  this  tragedy." 

"Tell  me  why,"  said  Crewe  sympathetically,  turning 
away  from  the  fire  and  looking  at  his  host. 

It  was  past  one  o'clock  when  Crewe  retired  to  his 
room.  The  object  of  his  visit  to  Sir  George  Gran- 
ville  had  been  to  obtain  a  rest  after  some  weeks  of 
investigation  into  the  Malmesbury  case,  as  the  news- 
papers called  it;  his  investigation  having  resulted  in 
the  capture  of  the  elusive  Malmesbury  who  had  swin- 
dled the  insurance  companies  out  of  £20,000  by  arrang- 
ing his  own  death  and  burial. 

Crewe  smiled  to  himself  once  or  twice  as  he  slowly 
undressed.  Instead  of  entering  into  a  quiet  week-end 
he  found  that  within  a  few  hours  of  his  arrival  he 
was  on  the  threshold  of  another  investigation.  He 
had  not  met  his  host's  nephew,  Harry  Marsland,  as 
the  young  man  had  left  for  his  ride  on  the  downs  be- 
fore Crewe  reached  the  house.  But  from  what  Sir 
George  had  told  him  Crewe  felt  attracted  to  the  young 
man.  Marsland,  who  was  the  only  son  of  Sir  George's 
only  sister,  had  purchased  a  junior  partnership  in  a 
firm  of  consulting  engineers  shortly  after  attending 
his  majority,  but  as  soon  as  the  war  broke  out  he 
offered  his  services  and  obtained  a  commission. 

He  had  seen  over  six  months'  fighting  before  being 
wounded  by  a  shell.  The  long  strain  of  warfare,  the 
shock  of  the  explosion  and  the  wounds  he  had  re- 
ceived in  the  head  from  shell  splinters  made  his 
recovery  very  slow.  He  had  been  in  hospital  for 
three  months,  and  though  now  convalescent  he  would 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS        41 

never  be  fit  for  service  again  and  had  been  invalided 
out  of  the  army.  There  had  been  a  time  in  hospital 
when  his  life  hung  by  a  thread.  During  days  and 
nights  of  delirium  his  mind  had  been  haunted  by  the 
scenes  of  horror  he  had  witnessed  at  the  front.  He 
had  seen  hundreds  of  men  go  through  the  agonies  of 
death  from  terrible  wounds  and  gas  torture ;  he  had 
seen  human  forms  blown  to  pieces,  and  the  men  fall- 
ing in  hundreds  from  machine-gun  fire  as  they  charged 
the  German  trenches. 

The  hospital  doctors  had  hinted  to  Sir  George  of 
the  possibility  of  his  nephew's  reason  being  affected 
by  what  he  had  gone  through,  but  fortunately  the 
young  man  was  spared  this  calamity.  Sir  George  had 
been  warned  not  to  let  his  nephew  talk  about  the  war 
and  to  keep  his  mind  occupied  with  more  cheerful 
subjects  of  conversation.  In  pursuance  of  these  in- 
structions no  reference  was  made  to  the  war  in  young 
Marsland's  presence,  and  his  rank  as  captain  was  stu- 
diously forgotten. 

It  was  on  the  ground  of  his  nephew's  health  and 
the  danger  that  lay  in  mental  worry  that  Sir  George 
Granville  begged  Crewe,  before  he  retired,  to  promise 
to  investigate  the  crime  at  Cliff  Farm  if  it  turned 
out  to  be  a  case  which  was  likely  to  baffle  the  police 
and  result  in  protracted  worry  to  those  innocently 
brought  into  it.  Crewe  recognized  the  force  of  the 
appeal  and  had  promised  to  give  some  time  to  the 
case  if  the  circumstances  seemed  to  demand  it.  He 
reserved  his  final  decision  until  after  the  visit  to 
Cliff  Farm,  which  Sir  George  had  arranged  to  make 
in  the  morning. 

Anxiety  on  his  nephew's  behalf  got  Sir  George  out 


42        THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

of  bed  early,  and  when  Crewe  reached  the  breakfast- 
room  he  found  his  host  waiting  for  him.  The  hearti- 
ness with  which  he  greeted  Crewe  seemed  to  embody 
some  relief  after  a  strain  on  patience. 

"I  rang  up  Ashlingsea  police  station  half  an  hour 
ago  and  asked  them  to  make  some  inquiries  about 
Harry,"  said  Sir  George.  "He  doesn't  seem  to  be 
much  the  worse  for  his  night's  experience.  At  all 
events,  the  landlady  sent  word  back  that  he  had  gone 
out  for  a  swim." 

"I  am  very  glad  to  hear  that  he  is  all  right,"  said 
Crewe. 

"They  have  given  him  our  message,"  continued  Sir 
George,  "so  he  will  be  waiting  for  us." 

"It  ought  not  to  take  us  much  more  than  half  an 
hour  to  run  over.  Is  the  road  good?" 

"Fairly  good.  We  will  get  away  as  soon  as  we  have 
finished  breakfast.  I  told  my  wife  not  to  expect  us 
back  until  after  lunch.  That  will  give  you  time  to 
look  over  the  farm-house  where  the  man  was  mur- 
dered." 

Crewe  smiled  slightly  at  his  host's  idea  that  it  would 
not  take  him  long  to  reconstruct  the  crime. 

"Are  we  to  keep  the  object  of  our  journey  a  secret 
from  Lady  Granville  when  we  return  ?"  he  asked. 

"Well,  no.  The  fact  of  the  matter  is  that  I  told 
her  all  about  it  this  morning.  It  was  best  to  do  so. 
She  will  be  of  valuable  assistance  in  looking  after 
Harry  if  he  has  been  upset  by  his  experiences  of  last 
night." 

They  finished  breakfast  quickly,  and  Sir  George  got 
up  from  his  chair. 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS        43 

"I  told  Harris  to  have  the  car  ready,"  he  said.  "It 
will  be  waiting  for  us." 

A  few  minutes  later  they  were  in  the  car  and  were 
going  along  the  front  at  a  good  rate.  When  the  houses 
became  scattered,  the  road  left  the  outline  of  the  shore, 
made  a  detour  round  some  sand  dunes  about  a  mile 
from  Staveley,  and  then  stretched  like  a  white  ribbon 
along  the  cliffs,  between  the  downs  and  the  sea,  to 
the  distant  village  of  Ashlingsea.  The  road  justified 
Sir  George's  description  as  fairly  good,  but  there  were 
places  where  it  was  very  narrow,  the  width  being 
scarcely  sufficient  to  allow  one  vehicle  to  pass  another. 
On  the  side  where  the  road  joined  the  downs  there 
was  a  ditch,  and  in  some  places  the  water  had  col- 
lected and  formed  a  pool. 

"What  is  this  ?"  exclaimed  Sir  George,  as  he  pointed 
to  an  object  at  the  side  of  the  road  some  distance 
away. 

The  object  was  a  motor-car,  which  had  struck  the 
ditch  and  overturned.  Part  of  the  car  was  lying  on 
the  downs.  One  of  the  front  wheels  had  been 
wrenched  out  of  position.  To  Crewe's  surprise  the 
chauffeur  drove  past  without  more  than  a  sidelong 
glance  at  the  wreck. 

"Stop !"  said  Crewe.    "We  must  have  a  look  at  this." 

"Yes,  we  may  as  well  have  a  look  at  it,"  said  Sir 
George,  as  the  car  stopped.  "But  it  is  only  one  of 
Gosford's  old  cars.  He  has  a  garage  at  Staveley  and 
has  three  or  four  old  cars  which  he  lets  out  on  hire. 
They  are  always  coming  to  grief.  Quite  a  common 
thing  to  find  them  stuck  up  and  refusing  to  budge. 
The  occupants  have  to  get  out  and  walk." 

Crewe  got  out  of  the  car  to  inspect  the  wreck,  but 


44        THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

Sir  George  did  not  follow  him.  He  was  content  to 
look  on -from  his  seat  in  the  car.  With  some  impa- 
tience he  watched  Crewe,  as  the  detective  examined 
the  car  first  on  one  side  and  then  the  other.  Crewe 
went  back  along  the  road  for  about  forty  yards  and 
examined  the  track  the  wheels  had  made  in  running 
off  the  road  and  striking  the  ditch.  Then  he  stood 
back  a  few  yards,  and,  going  down  on  his  knees,  ex- 
amined the  grass.  He  put  his  shoulder  underneath 
the  upturned  side  of  the  car  to  judge  the  weight  of  the 
vehicle. 

"I  believe  we  could  turn  it  over,"  he  called  out  to 
Sir  George.  "It  is  not  very  heavy." 

"Get  out,  Harris,  and  see  what  you  can  do,"  said 
Sir  George. 

He  sat  and  watched  Crewe  and  Harris  exerting 
their  strength  to  lift  the  car.  They  were  not  successful 
in  moving  it. 

"Do  you  mind,  Sir  George?"  said  Crewe  persuas- 
ively. 

Sir  George  did  mind,  but  convention  demanded  that 
he  should  pretend  to  his  guest  that  he  did  not. 

"Gosford  won't  thank  us,"  was  the  length  of  the 
protest  he  offered.  "We  may  give  the  thing  a  bump 
that  will  bring  it  to  pieces." 

"I  do  not  want  to  shove  it  right  over,"  explained 
Crewe.  "If  we  can  get  it  on  its  side  so  that  I  can 
have  a  look  at  it  inside  I  will  be  satisfied." 

Sir  George's  contribution  to  the  task  turned  the 
scale.  Slowly  the  car  was  raised  until  it  rested  on  its 
right  side.  Crewe  bent  down  and  inspected  the  inside 
of  the  car  and  the  driver's  seat. 

"Thanks,"  he  said.    "I've  got  all  I  want." 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS       45 

"And  what  is  it  that  you  wanted?"  demanded  Sir 
George,  in  astonishment. 

"Several  things,"  said  Crewe.  "I  wanted  to  get  an 
idea  of  when  the  accident  took  place." 

"How  on  earth  could  you  expect  to  tell  that?"  asked 
Sir  George. 

"By  the  state  of  the  car — outside  and  inside.  The 
way  the  mud  is  splashed  on  the  outside  indicates  that 
the  car  was  out  in  last  night's  storm.  The  wet  state 
of  the  cushions  inside  showed  that  rain  had  fallen 
on  them — they  must  have  got  wet  before  the  car  cap- 
sized." 

"Extremely  interesting,"  said  Sir  George.  "I'd 
never  have  thought  of  these  things.  Perhaps  you  can 
tell  how  many  people  were  in  the  car  at  the  time." 

"No.  All  I  can  say  is  that  one  of  them  was  in- 
jured, but  not  very  seriously,  as  far  as  I  can  make 
out." 

"And  how  do  you  make  that  out  ?"  asked  Sir  George. 

"By  the  blood-stains  on  the  grass  at  the  side  of  the 
car." 


CHAPTER  IV 

POLICE- SERGEANT  WESTAWAY  sat  in  the  sitting-room 
of  Cliff  Farm  preparing  an  official  report,  with 
the  assistance  of  his  subordinate,  Police-Constable 
Heather,  whose  help  consisted  in  cordially  agreeing 
with  his  superior  on  any  point  on  which  the  sergeant 
condescended  to  ask  his  advice. 

The  constable  was  a  short,  florid-faced,  bullet- 
headed  young  man,  and  he  whistled  cheerfully  as  he 
explored  the  old  farm-house.  His  superior  officer  was 
elderly  and  sallow,  with  hollow  dark  eyes,  a  long  black 
beard  streaked  with  grey,  and  a  saturnine  expression, 
which  was  the  outward  manifestation  of  a  pessimistic 
disposition  and  a  disordered  liver. 

Sergeant  Westaway  looked  like  a  man  who  found 
life  a  miserable  business.  A  quarter  of  a  century 
spent  in  a  dull  round  of  official  duties  in  the  fishing 
village  of  Ashlingsea,  as  guardian  of  the  morals  of 
its  eight  hundred  inhabitants,  had  deepened  his  nat- 
ural bent  towards  pessimism  and  dyspepsia.  He  felt 
himself  qualified  to  adorn  a  much  higher  official  post, 
but  he  forbore  to  air  his  grievance  in  public  because 
he  thought  the  people  with  whom  his  lot  was  cast  were 
not  worth  wasting  speech  upon.  By  his  aloofness  and 
taciturnity  he  had  acquired  a  local  reputation  for  wis- 
dom, which  his  mental  gifts  scarcely  warranted. 

"Heather,"  he  said,  pausing  in  his  writing  and  glanc- 
46 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS        47 

mg  up  irritably  as  his  subordinate  entered  the  room, 
"do  not  make  that  noise." 

"What  noise,  sergeant?"  asked  Constable  Heather, 
who  gathered  his  impressions  slowly. 

"That  whistling.  It  disturbs  me.  Besides,  there  is 
a  dead  man  in  the  house." 

"All  right,  sergeant,  I  forgot  all  about  him."  Con- 
stable Heather  stopped  in  the  middle  of  a  lively  stave, 
sat  down  on  a  chair,  got  up  again,  and  went  out  of 
the  room  with  a  heavy  tread. 

Sergeant  Westaway  returned  to  his  official  report 
with  a  worried  expression  on  his  gaunt  face.  He  was 
a  country  police  officer  with  no  previous  experience  of 
murders,  and  twenty-five  years'  official  vegetation  in 
Ashlingsea,  with  nothing  more  serious  in  the  way  of 
crime  to  handle  than  occasional  outbreaks  of  drunk- 
enness or  an  odd  case  of  petty  larceny,  had  made  him 
rusty  in  official  procedure,  and  fearful  of  violating  the 
written  and  unwritten  laws  of  departmental  red  tape. 
He  wrote  and  erased  and  rewrote,  occasionally  laying 
down  his  pen  to  gaze  out  of  the  open  window  for 
inspiration. 

It  was  a  beautiful  day  in  early  autumn.  The  violent 
storm  of  the  previous  night  had  left  but  few  traces  of 
its  visit.  The  sun  was  shining  in  a  clear  blue  sky, 
and  the  notes  of  a  skylark  singing  joyously  high  above 
the  meadow  in  front  of  the  farm  floated  in  through 
the  open  window.  The  winding  cliff  road  was  white 
and  clean  after  the  heavy  rain,  and  the  sea  was  once 
more  clear  and  green,  with  little  white-flecked  waves 
dancing  and  sparkling  in  the  sunshine. 

Sergeant  Westaway,  gloomily  glancing  out  at  this 
pleasing  prospect,  saw  two  men  entering  the  farm 


48        THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

from  the  road.  They  had  been  cycling,  and  were  now 
pushing  their  machines  up  the  gravel-path  to  the  front 
door.  One  of  them  was  in  police  uniform,  and  the 
other  was  a  young  man  about  thirty  years  of  age,  clad 
in  cycling  tweeds  and  knickerbockers,  with  a  tweed 
cap  on  the  back  of  his  curly  head.  He  had  blue  eyes 
and  a  snub  nose,  and  a  cigarette  dangled  from  his 
lower  lip.  He  was  a  stranger  to  Sergeant  Westaway, 
but  that  acute  official  had  no  hesitation  in  placing  him 
as  a  detective  from  Scotland  Yard.  To  the  eye  of 
pessimism  he  looked  like  the  sort  of  man  that  Scot- 
land Yard  would  send  to  assist  the  country  police.  His 
companion  in  uniform  was  Detective-Inspector  Payne, 
of  the  County  police  headquarters  at  Lewes,  and  was 
well  known  to  Sergeant  Westaway.  The  latter  had  no 
difficulty  in  arriving  at  the  conclusion  that  the  County 
Commissioner  of  Police,  having  several  other  mys- 
terious crimes  to  occupy  the  limited  number  of  detec- 
tives at  his  disposal,  had  asked  for  the  assistance  of 
Scotland  Yard  in  unravelling  the  murder  at  Cliff 
Farm.  Sergeant  Westaway  knew  what  this  would 
mean  to  him.  He  would  have  a  great  deal  to  do  in 
coaching  the  Scotland  Yard  man  regarding  local  con- 
ditions, but  would  get  none  of  the  credit  of  sheeting 
home  the  crime  to  the  murderer.  The  Scotland  Yard 
man  would  see  to  that. 

"How  are  you,  Westaway?"  exclaimed  Inspector 
Payne,  as  he  stood  his  bicycle  against  the  wall  of  the 
house  near  the  front  door.  "What  do  you  mean  by 
giving  us  a  murder  when  we've  got  our  hands  full? 
We've  burglaries  in  half  a  dozen  towns,  a  murder  at 
Denham,  two  unidentified  bodies  washed  ashore  in  a 
boat  at  Hemsley,  and  the  disappearance  from  Lewes 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS        49 

of  a  well-known  solicitor  who  is  wanted  for  embez- 
zling trust  funds.  Let  me  introduce  you  to  Detective 
Gillett,  of  Scotland  Yard.  I'm  turning  the  investiga- 
tion of  this  murder  of  yours  over  to  him.  You  will 
give  him  all  the  assistance  he  wants." 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  Sergeant  Westaway. 

"Glad  to  meet  you,  Westaway,"  said  Detective  Gil- 
lett, as  he  shook  hands  with  the  Sergeant. 

Sergeant  Westaway  had  come  to  the  door  to  meet 
the  new-comers,  and  he  now  led  the  way  back  to  the 
room  where  he  had  been  preparing  his  report. 

Detective  Gillett  took  up  a  position  by  the  open 
window,  and  sniffed  gratefully  at  the  soft  air. 

"Fine  view,  here,"  he  said,  waving  his  hand  in  the 
direction  of  the  cliff  road  and  open  bay.  "Fine,  brac- 
in'  air — sea — country — birds — and  till  that  sort  of 
thing.  You  chaps  in  the  country  have  all  the  best  of 
it — the  simple  life,  and  no  hustle  or  bustle." 

Sergeant  Westaway  looked  darkly  at  the  speaker 
as  though  he  suspected  him  of  a  desire  to  rob  him  of 
the  grievance  he  had  brooded  over  in  secret  for  twen- 
ty-five years.  •» 

"It's  dull  enough,"  he  said  ungraciously. 

"But  the  air,  man,  the  air!"  said  the  London  de- 
tective, inhaling  great  gulps  of  oxygen  as  he  spoke. 
"It's  exhilarating;  it's  glorious!  Why,  it  should  keep 
you  going  until  you  reach  a  hundred." 

"Too  salt,"  commented  Sergeant  Westaway  curtly. 

"The  more  salt  in  it  the  longer  it  will  preserve  you," 
said  Gillett.  "What  a  glorious  day  it  is." 

"The  day  is  right  enough,"  said  Westaway.  "But 
to-morrow  will  be  different." 

"Westaway  doesn't  like  to  be  enthusiastic  about 

E 


50       THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

this  locality  for  fear  we  will  shift  him  somewhere 
else,"  said  Inspector  Payne.  "However,  let  us  get  to 
business.  I  must  be  on  my  way  back  to  Lewes  in 
an  hour." 

Sergeant  Westaway  coughed  in  order  to  clear  his 
throat,  and  then  began  his  narrative  in  a  loud  official 
voice : 

"At  five  minutes  past  nine  last  night  a  gentleman 
named  Marsland  came  to  the  police  station.  I  was 
in  my  office  at  the  time,  preparing  a  report.  He  told 
me  that  he  had  found  the  dead  body  of  a  man  in  this 
house." 

"Who  is  this  Marsland?"  asked  Inspector  Payne. 
"Does  he  live  in  the  district?" 

"He  does  not,"  replied  the  sergeant.  "He  lives  at 
Staveley.  That  is  to  say,  he  lives  in  London,  but 
he  is  staying  at  Staveley.  He  is  staying  there  with 
his  uncle,  Sir  George  Granville." 

"I  know  Sir  George,"  said  the  inspector.  "And  so 
this  young  gentleman  who  discovered  the  body  is  his 
nephew.  How  old  is  he?" 

"About  twenty-eight,  I  should  say." 

"What  sort  of  young  man  is  he?  How  did  he  im- 
press you?" 

"He  impressed  me  as  being  an  honest  straightfor- 
ward young  gentleman.  He  gave  me  a  very  clear  state- 
ment of  who  he  was  and  how  he  came  to  call  in  at 
this  farm  last  night.  Nevertheless,  I  took  the  pre- 
caution of  telephoning  to  Inspector  Murchison  at 
Staveley  and  asking  him  to  have  inquiries  made.  The 
inspector's  report  coincides  with  what  Mr.  Marsland 
told  me.  He  has  been  in  ill-health  and  came  down 
from  London  to  Staveley  to  recuperate.  He  has  been 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS       51 

there  five  days.  Yesterday  he  left  Staveley  for  a  ride 
on  the  downs.  He  got  lost  and  was  caught  in  the  storm 
which  came  up  shortly  after  dusk.  His  horse  went 
lame,  and  seeing  this  house  he  came  here  for  shelter. 
The  horse  is  in  the  stable  now.  There  was  no  light 
in  the  house,  and  when  he  went  to  the  front  door  to 
knock  he  found  it  open.  He  struck  a  match  and  lit  a 
candle  which  was  on  the  hallstand.  He  could  see  no 
one  about.  Then  he  lit  a  lamp  in  this  room  and  sat 
down  to  wait  until  the  storm  was  over.  He  was  sit- 
ting here  for  some  time  listening  to  the  rain  when 
suddenly  he  heard  a  crash  above.  He  took  the  lamp 
and  made  his  way  upstairs.  In  a  sitting-room  on  the 
first  floor  he  found  the  dead  body  of  a  man  in  an  arm- 
chair. At  first  he  thought  the  man  had  died  a  natural 
death,  but  on  inspecting  the  body  he  found  that  the 
man  had  been  shot  through  the  body.  As  the  storm 
was  abating,  Mr.  Marsland  made  his  way  down  to 
Ashlingsea  and  reported  his  discovery  to  me." 

"And  what  did  you  do?"  asked  Inspector  Payne,  in 
an  autheritative  voice. 

"I  closed  the  station  and  in  company  with  Mr.  Mars- 
land  I  knocked  up  Police-Constable  Heather.  Then 
the  three  of  us  came  here.  I  found  the  body  as  Mr. 
Marsland  had  described.  I  identified  the  body  as  that 
of  Frank  Lumsden,  the  owner  of  this  farm.  Leaving 
Heather  in  charge  of  it,  I  returned  to  Ashlingsea  ac- 
companied by  Mr.  Marsland,  and  reported  the  matter 
by  telephone  to  headquarters  at  Lewes,  as  you  are 
aware,  inspector.  This  morning  I  returned  here  to 
make  a  minute  inspection  of  the  scene  of  the  crime  and 
to  prepare  my  report." 


52        THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

"Is  the  body  upstairs  now?"  asked  Detective  Gil- 
lett. 

"It  has  been  left  exactly  as  it  was  found.  I  gave 
Heather  orders  that  he  was  not  to  touch  it." 

"What  sort  of  a  man  was  this  Lumsden?"  asked 
Inspector  Payne.  "Had  he  any  enemies  ?" 

"He  may  have,"  replied  the  cautious  sergeant. 
"There  are  some  who  bore  him  no  good  will." 

"Why  was  that?" 

"Because  they  thought  he  hadn't  acted  rightly  by 
them.  He  was  the  executor  of  his  grandfather's  will, 
but  he  didn't  pay  the  legacies  his  grandfather  left. 
He  said  there  was  no  money.  His  grandfather  drew 
all  his  money  out  of  the  bank  when  the  war  broke 
out,  and  no  one  was  ever  able  to  find  where  he  hid 
it.  But  there  are  some  who  say  Frank  Lumsden 
found  it  and  stuck  to  it  all." 

"This  is  interesting,"  said  Detective  Gillett  "We 
must  go  into  it  thoroughly  later  on." 

"And  what  makes  it  more  interesting  is  that  a  sort 
of  plan  showing  where  the  money  was  hidden  has  dis- 
appeared," continued  Sergeant  Westaway.  "It  dis- 
appeared after  Lumsden  was  murdered.  Mr.  Mars- 
land  told  me  that  he  found  it  when  he  was  going  up- 
stairs to  find  out  the  cause  of  the  crash  he  heard.  It 
was  lying  on  the  second  bottom  stair.  Mr.  Marsland 
picked  it  up  and  put  it  on  the  table  with  the  candle 
stuck  on  top  of  it.  But  when  we  came  here  this  morn- 
ing it  was  gone." 

"That  is  strange,"  commented  Inspector  Payne. 
"What  was  the  plan  like?  And  how  does  Mr.  Mars- 
land  know  it  had  anything  to  do  with  the  missing 
money  ?" 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS        53 

"Of  course  he  doesn't  know  for  certain.  But  when 
I  happened  to  tell  him  about  the  murdered  man's 
grandfather  and  the  missing  money  he  called  to  mind 
a  strange-looking  paper  he  had  picked  up.  As  he 
described  it  to  me,  it  had  some  figures  written  in  the 
shape  of  a  circle  on  it,  and  some  letters  or  writing 
above  and  below  the  circle  of  figures.  He  did  not 
scrutinize  it  very  closely  when  he  first  found  it,  for 
he  intended  to  examine  it  later." 

"And  it  disappeared  after  Mr.  Marsland  left  the 
farm  to  go  to  the  police  station  ?"  asked  Detective  Gil- 
lett. 

"Showing,  to  my  mind,  that  the  murderer  was  ac- 
tually in  the  house  when  Mr.  Marsland  left,"  added 
Sergeant  Westaway,  with  impressive  solemnity.  "In 
all  probability  the  murderer  was  hiding  in  the  top 
floor  at  the  time.  I  have  ascertained  that  the  crash 
Mr.  Marsland  heard  was  caused  by  a  picture  being 
knocked  down  and  the  glass  broken.  This  picture  I 
found  on  the  stairs  leading  to  the  top  floor.  It  used 
to  hang  on  the  wall  near  the  top  of  the  stairs.  My 
theory  is  that  the  murderer,  feeling  his  way  in  the 
dark  while  Mr.  Marsland  was  in  this  room,  accidentally 
knocked  it  down." 

"I  take  it  that  Marsland  did  not  go  up  to  the  top 
floor  but  left  the  house  after  examining  the  body," 
remarked  Detective  Gillett. 

"That  is  so,"  replied  the  Sergeant.  "He  forgot  about 
the  crash  when  he  found  the  body  of  a  murdered  man. 
His  first  thought  was  to  communicate  with  the  police." 

"And  the  murderer,  leaving  the  house  after  Mars- 
land  had  gone,  found  this  plan  on  the  table  and  took 
it?"  suggested  Detective  Gillett. 


54       THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

"That  is  my  theory,"  replied  Sergeant  Westaway. 
"I  forgot  to  say,  however,  that  the  plan  was  probably 
stolen  in  the  first  place  from  the  murdered  man's 
pocket-book — his  pocket-book  was  found  on  the  table 
near  him.  It  had  been  opened  and  most  of  the  papers 
it  contained  had  been  removed.  The  papers  were 
scattered  about  the  table.  The  way  I  see  the  crime  is 
this :  the  murderer  had  killed  his  victim,  had  removed 
his  pocket-book,  and  had  obtained  possession  of  the 
plan.  He  was  making  his  way  downstairs  to  escape 
when  he  saw  Marsland  in  the  doorway.  In  his  alarm 
he  dropped  the  plan  on  the  stairs  and  then  crept  softly 
upstairs  to  the  top  of  the  house.  After  Mr.  Marsland 
left  the  murderer  came  downstairs  again,  looked  about 
for  the  plan,  and  after  finding  it  then  made  off." 

"A  very  ingenious  reconstruction,  sergeant,"  said 
Inspector  Payne.  "I  shouldn't  wonder  if  it  proved  to 
be  correct.  What  do  you  say,  Gillett?" 

"Westaway  is  wasting  his  time  down  here,"  said 
the  young  detective.  "We  ought  to  have  him  at  Scot- 
land Yard." 


CHAPTER  V 

SERGEANT  WESTAWAY  was  flattered  at  the  manner 
in  which  his  theory  of  the  murder  had  been  received  by 
men  who  were  far  more  experienced  than  himself  in 
investigating  crime.  His  sallow  cheeks  flushed  with 
pleasure  and  his  pessimism  waned  a  little.  In  his  de- 
termination to  place  his  hearers  in  possession  of  all 
the  facts  concerning  the  crime  and  the  victim  he  gave 
them  details  regarding  Lumsden's  mode  of  life  at 
Cliff  Farm  after  his  discharge  from  the  army,  and 
the  gossip  that  was  current  in  the  district  concerning 
him.  While  he  was  dealing  with  these  matters  they 
heard  a  motor-car  approaching.  It  stopped  outside 
the  gates  of  the  farmhouse,  and  the  three  police  of- 
ficials went  to  the  door  to  see  who  had  arrived. 

"Why,  it's  Crewe!"  exclaimed  Detective  Gillett,  in 
a  tone  of  surprise.  "I  wonder  who  has  put  him  on  to 
this?" 

"That  is  Sir  George  Granville  with  him — the  stout 
elderly  man,"  said  Inspector  Payne. 

"The  other  gentleman  is  Mr.  Marsland,"  said  Ser- 
geant Westaway. 

"Which  is  Crewe  and  which  is  Marsland?"  asked 
Inspector  Payne. 

"The  tall  one  on  the  left  is  Crewe,"  answered  De- 
tective Gillett. 

As  a  police  official,  Inspector  Payne  was  indignant 
at  the  idea  of  Crewe  intruding  into  the  case,  but  as  a 

55 


56        THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

man  he  was  delighted  at  the  opportunity  of  meeting 
the  famous  private  detective  who  had  so  often  scored 
over  Scotland  Yard  by  unravelling  mysteries  which 
had  baffled  the  experts  of  the  London  detective  de- 
partment. Crewe's  fame  had  even  penetrated  to  Ash- 
lingsea,  and  Sergeant  Westaway  studied  the  private 
detective  with  awed  interest  as  the  three  occupants 
of  the  motor-car  walked  up  the  drive. 

Inspector  Payne  had  pictured  Crewe  as  a  more 
striking  personality  than  the  tall  young  man  in  tweeds 
who  was  accompanying  Sir  George  Granville  and  his 
nephew.  The  latter  was  talking  earnestly,  and  Crewe 
was  listening  closely.  Inspector  Payne  had  an  op- 
portunity of  noting  the  distinction  and  character  which 
marked  the  detective's  face  in  repose :  the  clear,  clean- 
cut  profile,  the  quick  penetration  and  observation  of 
his  dark  eyes  as  they  took  in  the  exterior  of  Cliff 
Farm.  He  concluded  that  Crewe  was  rather  young  for 
the  fame  he  had  achieved — certainly  under  forty :  that 
he  liked  his  face ;  that  he  looked  like  a  gentleman ;  and 
that  his  tweed  suit  displayed  a  better  cut  than  any 
provincial  tailor  had  ever  achieved. 

His  companion,  Sir  George  Granville's  nephew,  was 
a  young  man  of  Saxon  type,  fair-haired,  blue-eyed, 
with  a  clear  skin  which  had  been  tanned  brown  as  the 
result  of  his  war  campaigning  in  France.  He  was  two 
or  three  inches  shorter  than  Crewe,  but  was  well  set 
up  and  well-built,  and  although  he  did  not  wear  khaki 
his  recent  connection  with  the  army  was  indicated  by 
his  military  carriage  and  bearing. 

After  the  necessary  introductions  Crewe  explained 
with  an  air  of  modesty  that,  Sir  George  Granville's 
nephew  having  had  the  misfortune  to  become  asso- 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS        57 

elated  with  the  tragedy  through  the  discovery  of  the 
body,  Sir  George,  as  a  public  man,  had  conceived  the 
idea  that  he  ought  to  do  something  towards  discov- 
ering the  author  of  the  crime.  That  was  how  he  him- 
self came  to  be  present.  He  hoped  that  he  would 
not  be  in  the  way  of  the  police. 

"Not  at  all;  not  at  all,"  said  Inspector  Payne,  an- 
swering for  the  County  Police.  "We'll  be  glad  of  your 
help.  And  as  for  anything  we  can  do  for  you,  Mr. 
Crewe,  you  have  only  to  ask." 

"That  is  very  kind  of  you,"  said  Crewe. 

"You  are  just  in  time,"  continued  Inspector  Payne. 
"Gillett  and  I  have  been  here  only  a  few  minutes. 
We  were  just  going  upstairs  to  look  at  the  body  when 
you  arrived." 

On  their  way  upstairs  Gillett  drew  attention  to  some 
marks  on  the  margin  of  the  stairs  between  the  carpet 
on  the  staircase  and  the  wall.  These  marks  were  ir- 
regular in  shape,  and  they  looked  as  if  they  had  been 
made  by  wiping  portions  of  the  stairs  with  a  dirty 
wet  cloth.  Some  of  the  stairs  bore  no  mark. 

"It  seems  to  me  that  some  one  has  been  wiping  up 
spots  of  blood  on  the  stairs,"  said  Inspector  Payne, 
as  he  examined  the  marks  closely. 

On  the  linoleum  covering  the  landing  of  the  first 
flight  there  were  more  traces  of  the  kind,  the  last  of 
them  being  beside  the  door  of  the  room  in  which  the 
body  had  been  discovered. 

The  dead  man  was  still  in  the  arm-chair  near  the 
window.  There  was  such  a  resemblance  to  life  in  his 
stooping  posture  that  the  men  entering  the  room  found 
it  difficult  at  first  to  realize  they  were  confronted  with 
the  corpse  of  a  man  who  had  been  murdered.  A  ray 


58        THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

of  sunlight  fell  through  the  narrow  window  on  the 
bent  head,  revealing  the  curly  brown  hair  and  the 
youthful  contour  of  the  neck.  The  right  arm  was 
slightly  extended  from  the  body  towards  the  table  near 
the  arm-chair  in  which  the  corpse  was  seated,  as 
though  the  murdered  man  had  been  about  to  pick 
up  the  pocket-book  which  lay  on  the  table.  The  pock- 
et-book was  open,  and  the  papers  which  had  been  in 
it  were  scattered  about  the  table. 

Payne,  Gillett  and  Crewe  inspected  the  body  closely. 
Sir  George  Granville  and  Marsland  waited  a  little 
distance  away  while  the  others  conducted  their  exam- 
ination. The  dead  man  had  been  fully  dressed  when  he 
was  shot.  On  the  left  side  of  his  vest  was  the  hole  made 
by  the  bullet,  and  around  it  was  a  discoloured  patch 
where  the  blood,  oozing  from  the  wound,  had  stained 
the  tweed.  There  were  numerous  blood-stains  on  the 
floor  near  the  dead  man's  feet,  and  also  near  the  win- 
dow at  the  side  of  the  arm-chair. 

"I  see  that  the  window  is  broken,"  said  Inspector 
Payne,  pointing  to  one  of  the  panes  in  the  window 
near  the  arm-chair. 

"By  a  bullet,"  said  Sergeant  Westaway.  He  pulled 
down  the  window  blind  and  pointed  to  a  hole  in  it 
which  had  evidently  been  made  by  a  bullet.  "When 
I  came  in  the  blind  was  down.  I  pulled  it  up  in  order 
to  let  in  some  light.  But  the  fact  that  there  is  a 
hole  in  the  window  blind  shows  that  the  murder  was 
committed  at  night,  when  the  blind  was  down.  I 
should  say  two  shots  were  fired.  The  first  went 
through  the  window,  and  the  other  killed  him." 

"I  think  the  bullet  that  killed  him  has  gone  through 
him,"  said  Crewe,  who  had  moved  the  body  in  order 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS        59 

to  examine  the  back  of  it.  "It  looks  as  if  he  was  shot 
from  behind,  because  the  wound  in  the  back  is  lower 
down  than  the  one  in  front."  He  pointed  to  a  hole 
in  the  back  of  the  coat  where  the  cloth  showed  a  simi- 
lar discoloured  patch  to  the  one  in  the  vest. 

"It  must  have  been  a  powerful  weapon  if  the  bul- 
let has  gone  through  him,"  said  Gillett.  "That  means 
we  shall  have  no  bullet  to  guide  us  as  to  the  calibre 
of  the  weapon,  unless  we  can  find  the  one  that  went 
through  the  window." 

"Perhaps  there  was  only  one  shot  fired  after  all," 
remarked  Inspector  Payne.  "The  victim  may  have 
been  standing  by  the  window  when  he  was  shot,  and 
then  have  staggered  to  the  chair.  Otherwise  if  he 
were  shot  in  the  back  while  sitting  in  the  chair  the  bul- 
let should  be  embedded  in  the  chair  or  wall.  But  I  can 
see  no  sign  of  it." 

"Not  necessarily,"  said  Gillett.  "Look  at  the  position 
on  the  arm-chair.  It  is  possible  that  the  bullet,  after 
going  through  the  man,  went  through  the  window. 
That  would  account  for  the  broken  pane  of  glass." 

The  pocket-book  and  the  papers  it  contained  were 
next  examined.  Inspector  Payne  asked  Marsland  con- 
cerning the  mysterious  plan  he  had  picked  up  on  the 
stairs.  Marsland  borrowed  a  sheet  of  paper  from  the 
inspector's  large  official  note-book  and  drew  a  rough 
sketch  of  the  plan  as  he  remembered  it.  He  explained 
that  as  he  had  lost  his  glasses  while  out  in  the  storm 
he  had  not  been  able  to  make  a  close  study  of  the 
plan.  While  he  was  engaged  in  reproducing  the  plan 
as  far  as  he  remembered  it,  Sergeant  Westaway  en- 
lightened Crewe  and  Sir  George  Granville  about  the 
theory  he  had  formed  that  the  murderer  was  in  the 


60        THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

house  when  Marsland  discovered  the  body,  and  that, 
after  Marsland  left,  the  murderer  made  his  escape  and 
took  from  the  sitting-room  downstairs  the  plan  he  had 
dropped  on  the  stairs  when  he  heard  Marsland  in  the 
house. 

"What  do  you  make  of  this,  Mr.  Crewe  ?"  asked  In- 
spector Payne,  as  he  took  up  the  paper  on  which  Mars- 
land  had  sketched  what  he  recalled  of  the  plan.  "Do 
you  think  this  was  meant  to  show  where  the  old 
grandfather  had  his  money?" 

"That  is  very  probable,"  said  Crewe.  "But  it  is  not 
worth  while  trying  to  solve  the  riddle  from  a  sketch 
drawn  from  memory.  Get  the  murderer  and  you  will 
probably  get  the  original  plan  as  well." 

Sergeant  Westaway,  in  pursuance  of  his  duties  as 
guide,  took  his  visitors  downstairs  to  the  sitting-room 
for  the  purpose  of  showing  them  how  the  window 
had  been  forced  in  order  to  provide  an  entrance.  He 
pointed  to  a  mark  on  the  sash  which  indicated  that 
a  knife  had  been  used  to  force  back  the  catch. 

This  was  the  room  in  which  Miss  Maynard  had 
been  sitting  when  Marsland  had  arrived  to  obtain 
shelter  from  the  storm.  Marsland  noticed  the  chair 
beside  which  she  had  stood  while  they  were  in  the 
room  together  before  going  upstairs  to  investigate  the 
cause  of  the  crash  they  had  heard.  He  gave  a  start  as  he 
saw  behind  the  chair  a  small  tortoiseshell  comb  such 
as  ladies  sometimes  wear  to  keep  their  hair  up.  He 
stooped  quickly  to  pick  it  up,  and  as  he  did  so  he  real- 
ized that  he  had  blundered  badly.  In  order  to  rectify 
the  blunder  he  made  a  weak  attempt  to  hide  the  comb, 
but  he  saw  Detective  Gillett's  eye  on  him. 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS       61 

"What  have  we  here?"  asked  the  Scotland  Yard 
man  genially. 

Marsland  held  out  his  hand  with  the  comb  resting 
in  it. 

"A  woman  in  the  case,"  commented  Inspector 
Payne.  "That  ought  to  help  to  simplify  matters." 

Marsland  bit  his  lips  at  the  thought  of  how  he  had 
been  false  to  his  promise  to  Miss  Maynard.  He  had 
kept  her  name  out  of  the  discovery  of  the  crime,  but 
he  had  unwittingly  directed  attention  to  the  fact  that 
a  woman  had  only  recently  been  in  that  room. 

The  comb  was  handed  to  Crewe  for  examination. 
It  was  about  three  inches  long  and  was  slightly  convex 
in  shape.  On  the  outside  was  a  thin  strip  of  gold 
mounting.  Crewe  handed  the  comb  back. 

"You  sat  in  this  room  before  going  upstairs,  Mars- 
land?"  he  asked,  turning  to  Sir  George's  nephew. 

"Yes;  I  was  here  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  or 
twenty  minutes." 

"Was  the  window  open  when  you  came  in?  Did 
you  close  it?" 

"I  did  not  close  it,  but  it  must  have  been  closed, 
as  otherwise  I  would  have  noticed  it  open.  It  was 
raining  and  blowing  hard  while  I  was  here."  Mars- 
land  thought  to  himself  that  any  information  he  could 
give  about  the  window  was  useless  in  view  of  the 
fact  that  Miss  Maynard  had  been  in  the  room  some 
time  before  he  arrived. 

"Was  this  the  room  in  which  you  found  the  lamp 
that  you  took  upstairs?"  continued  Crewe. 

"Yes." 

"I  think  you  told  me  that  there  was  no  light  in  the 
house  when  you  entered?" 


62       THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

"The  place  was  in  darkness.  I  found  a  candlestick 
on  the  hallstand.  I  lit  that  first  and  after  coming 
in  here  I  lit  the  lamp."  He  had  decided  to  adhere  in 
his  statements  to  what  Miss  Maynard  had  told  him 
she  had  done  before  he  arrived. 

"Did  you  notice  when  you  lit  the  lamp  whether  the 
lamp  chimney  was  hot,  warm,  or  quite  cold?"  asked 
Crewe. 

"I  cannot  be  certain.  I  think  it  was  cold,  or  other- 
wise I  should  have  noticed." 

"You  lit  the  lamp  before  you  heard  the  crash  which 
startled  you?" 

"Yes.  I  lit  it  a  few  moments  after  I  came  into 
the  room." 

"Any  foot-marks  outside  the  window?"  said  In- 
spector Payne,  thrusting  his  head  out  of  the  open 
window.  "Yes,  there  they  are,  quite  plainly,  in  the 
ground.  Made  by  heavy  hobnailed  boots.  We  must 
get  plaster  impressions  of  those,  Gillett.  They  are  an 
important  clue." 

"I  notice,  inspector,"  said  Crewe,  "that  there  are 
no  marks  of  any  kind  on  the  wall-paper  beneath  the 
window.  One  would  expect  that  a  man  getting  in 
through  this  window  would  touch  the  wall-paper  with 
one  foot  while  he  was  getting  through  the  window, 
and  as  it  was  a  wet  night  there  ought  to  be  some  mark 
on  it." 

"Not  necessarily,"  replied  the  inspector.  "He  may 
have  jumped  to  the  'floor  without  touching  the  wall- 
paper." 

"But  there  do  not  seem  to  be  any  impressions  inside 
the  house  of  these  heavy  nailed  boots,"  returned 
Crewe.  "Those  impressions  beneath  the  window  show 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS       63 

that  they  were  made  when  the  ground  was  soft  from 
the  rain.  Wet  muddy  boots  with  nails  in  the  soles 
ought  to  leave  some  traces  on  the  carpet  of  this  room 
and  on  the  staircase." 

"And  what  about  those  marks  we  saw  on  the  stair- 
case? They  show  that  some  one  had  been  over  the 
staircase  with  a  wet  rag." 

"To  wipe  out  the  traces  of  those  boots?"  asked 
Crewe. 

"Why  not?" 

"Why  did  the  person  wearing  those  boots  walk  on 
the  uncarpeted  part  of  the  stairs  near  the  wall  instead 
of  the  carpeted  part?" 

"Because  he  knew  that  it  would  be  easier  for  him  to 
remove  the  traces  of  his  footprints  from  the  wood 
than  from  the  carpet." 

Crewe  smiled  at  the  ingenuity  displayed  by  the  in- 
spector. 

"One  more  doubt,  inspector,"  he  said.  "Why  did 
the  man  who  wore  those  boots  take  such  care  to  re- 
move the  traces  of  footprints  inside  the  house  and 
show  so  much  indifference  to  the  traces  he  left  out- 
side ?" 

"Because  he  thought  the  rain  would  wash  out  the 
footprints  outside.  And  so  it  would  have  done  if 
it  had  rained  until  morning.  Let  us  go  outside  and 
have  a  good  look  at  them." 

They  went  out  by  the  front  door  and  made  their 
way  to  the  window,  taking  care  to  keep  clear  of  the 
footprints. 

"There  you  are,  Mr.  Crewe,"  said  Inspector  Payne. 
"There  is  evidence  that  the  man  got  in  through  the 
window."  He  pointed  to  a  spot  beneath  the  window 


64        THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

where  a  small  piece  of  mortar  between  the  brickwork 
had  been  broken  off  about  fifteen  inches  above  the 
ground.  "And  look  at  those  parallel  scratches  on  the 
mortar.  It  looks  to  me  as  if  they  were  made  by  tha 
nails  in  a  boot" 

"Very  true,"  assented  Crewe,  examining  the  marks 
closely. 

"Now  let  us  follow  the  footsteps  to  see  where  they 
start  from,"  continued  Inspector  Payne. 

It  was  no  difficult  matter  to  follow  the  marks  of  the 
heavy  boots.  In  the  soft  soil,  which  had  formerly 
been  part  of  a  flower-bed,  they  were  quite  distinct. 
Even  on  the  grass  beyond  the  flower-bed  the  impres- 
sions were  visible,  though  not  so  distinctly.  Eventu- 
ally they  reached  the  gravel-walk  which  skirted  the 
front  of  the  house,  and  here  the  traces  were  lost. 

"I  should  say  that  the  boots  which  made  these  marks 
are  the  ordinary  heavy  type  worn  by  farm-hands  and 
fishermen  in  this  locality,"  said  Crewe. 

"No  doubt,"  answered  Inspector  Payne.  "But, 
though  there  are  some  hundreds  of  men  in  this  locality 
who  wear  the  same  type  of  boot,  the  number  of  pairs 
of  boots  absolutely  the  same  are  small.  That  is  par- 
ticularly the  case  with  these  heavy  nailed  boots — the 
positions  of  some  of  the  nails  vary.  A  cast  of  three 
or  four  of  the  best  of  these  impressions  will  narrow 
down  the  circle  of  our  investigations.  What  do  you 
say,  Gillett?" 

"It  looks  to  me  as  if  it  is  going  to  be  a  compara- 
tively simple  affair." 

Inspector  Payne  turned  to  Marsland. 

"I  think  you  said  you  found  the  door  open,  Mr. 
Marsland.  Do  you  mean  wide  open  or  partly  closed  ?" 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS       65 

"I  found  it  wide  open,"  replied  Marsland.  "I 
thought  at  the  time  that  it  had  not  been  properly 
closed  and  that  the  wind  had  blown  it  open." 

"That  means  that  the  murderer  got  in  through  this 
window  and  left  by  the  door,"  said  Inspector  Payne  to 
Detective  Gillett.  "He  left  it  open  when  he  fled." 

"But  what  about  Westaway's  theory  that  he  was  in 
the  house  when  Mr.  Marsland  came  here?"  asked 
Gillett.  "What  about  the  crash  Mr.  Marsland  heard 
when  the  picture  fell  down?  What  about  the  plan  of 
the  hidden  money  that  disappeared  after  Mr.  Mars- 
land  left?" 

It  was  plain  that  Detective  Gillett,  who  had  to  in- 
vestigate the  crime,  was  not  in  sympathy  with  In- 
spector Payne's  method  of  solving  difficult  points  by 
ignoring  them. 

Inspector  Payne  stroked  his  chin  thoughtfully. 

"There  are  a  lot  of  interesting  little  points  to  be 
cleared  up,"  he  said  cheerfully. 

"Yes,  there  are,"  responded  Detective  Gillett,  "and 
I've  no  doubt  we  will  find  more  of  them  as  we  go 
along." 

It  was  obvious  to  Marsland  that  in  keeping  silent 
about  Miss  Maynard's  presence  at  Cliff  Farm  on  the 
night  of  the  storm,  and  the  means  by  which  she  had 
entered  the  house,  he  was  placing  obstacles  in  the  way 
of  the  elucidation  of  the  tragedy. 


FROM  the  front  gate  of  Cliff  Farm  the  road  wound 
up  the  hill  steeply  and  sinuously,  following  the  broken 
curves  of  the  coastline  till  it  disappeared  in  the  cutting 
of  the  hill  three  hundred  yards  from  the  house,  and 
reappeared  on  the  other  side.  As  far  as  could  be  seen 
from  the  house,  the  cutting  through  the  hill  was  the 
only  place  where  the  road  diverged  from  the  cliff. 

No  other  short  cut  on  a  large  scale  had  been  at- 
tempted by  the  makers  of  the  road,  which,  for  the 
most  part,  skirted  the  irregular  outline  of  the  bluff 
and  rocky  coast  until  it  seemed  a  mere  white  thread  in 
the  distant  green  of  the  spacious  downs  which 
stretched  for  many  miles  to  the  waters  of  the  Channel. 

On  the  far  side  of  the  cutting  the  downs  came  fully 
into  view,  rolling  back  from  the  edge  of  the  cliffs  to 
a  low  range  of  distant  wooded  hills,  and  stretching 
ahead  till  they  were  merged  in  the  town  of  Staveley, 
nearly  ten  miles  away.  Staveley's  churchspires  could 
be  seen  from  the  headland  near  Cliff  Farm  on  a  clear 
day,  and  the  road  in  front  of  the  farm  ran  to  the 
town,  skirting  the  edge  of  the  cliffs  for  nearly  the 
whole  of  the  way. 

Crewe  and  Marsland  walked  up  the  road  from  the 
house  for  some  distance  in  silence.  Sir  George  Gran- 
ville  had  gone  back  to  Staveley  in  his  car,  but  his 
nephew  and  Crewe  had  arranged  to  stay  behind  and 

66 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS        67 

spend  the  night  at  Ashlingsea.  Crewe  desired  to  begin 
his  investigations  without  delay,  and  Inspector  Payne 
had  asked  Mr.  Marsland  to  remain  at  Ashlingsea  in 
case  Detective  Gillett  wanted  further  light  from  him 
on  incidental  points.  As  they  walked  along,  Crewe 
was  thoughtful,  and  Marsland  scrutinized  the  way-side 
closely,  anxious  to  find  the  spot  where  his  horse  had 
swerved  and  stumbled  on  the  previous  night.  Thus 
preoccupied,  they  reached  the  highest  point  of  the  cliff, 
a  rocky  headland  which  ran  out  from  the  hill-top  on 
the  other  side  of  the  cutting,  forming  a  landmark  well 
known  to  the  fishermen  of  the  district. 

The  headland,  which  was  not  more  than  a  hundred 
yards  across  at  the  base,  jutted  sharply  out  into  the 
sea.  Immediately  beyond  it,  on  the  Staveley  side,  the 
road  ran  along  the  edge  of  the  cliffs  for  several 
hundred  yards,  with  a  light  rail  fence  on  the  outside 
as  some  protection  for  traffic  from  the  danger  of  going 
over  the  side  to  the  rocks  below.  Where  the  grassy 
margin  of  the  headland  narrowed  to  this  dangerous 
pass,  an  ancient  and  faded  notice  board  on  a  post  which 
had  departed  from  its  perpendicular  position  warned 
drivers  that  the  next  portion  of  the  road  was  DAN- 
GEROUS, and  a  similar  board  was  affixed  to  the  other 
end  of  the  protecting  fence. 

Marsland  stopped  opposite  the  point  where  the  first 
notice-board  confronted  them  from  the  narrowing 
margin  of  headline. 

"It  was  somewhere  about  here  that  my  horse  took 
fright  last  night,  I  think,"  he  said,  examining  the  green 
bank  on  the  side  of  the  road  farthest  from  the  cliff. 
"Yes,  here  is  where  he  slipped." 


Crewe  examined  the  deep  indentation  of  hoofmarks 
with  interest. 

"It's  lucky  for  you  your  horse  shied  in  that  direc- 
tion," he  said.  "If  he  had  sprung  the  other  way  you 
might  have  gone  over  the  cliffs,  in  spite  of  the  fence. 
Lock  here !" 

Marsland  followed  him  to  the  edge  of  the  cliff  and 
glanced  over.  The  tide  was  out,  and  the  cliffside  fell 
almost  perpendicularly  to  the  jagged  rocks  nearly  300 
feet  below. 

"They'd  be  covered  at  high  tide,"  said  Crewe,  point- 
ing downward  to  the  rocks.  "But  even  if  one  fell 
over  at  high  tide  there  would  not  be  much  chance  of 
escape.  The  breakers  must  come  in  with  terrific  force 
on  this  rocky  coast." 

"It's  a  horribly  dangerous  piece  of  road,  especially 
at  night-time,"  said  Marsland.  "I  suppose  there  was 
some  bad  accident  here  at  one  time  or  another,  which 
compelled  the  local  authorities  to  put  up  that  fence 
and  the  warning  notices.  Even  now,  it's  far  from 
safe.  Somebody's  had  a  narrow  escape  from  going 
over:  look  at  that  notice-board  leaning  down  on 
one  side.  Some  passing  motor-car  has  gone  too  close 
to  the  edge  of  the  road — probably  in  the  dark — and 
bumped  it  half  over." 

"I  noticed  it,"  said  Crewe.  "I  agree  with  you :  this 
piece  of  road  is  highly  dangerous.  There  will  be  a 
shocking  accident  here  some  day  unless  the  local  au- 
thorities close  this  portion  of  the  road  and  make  a 
detour  to  that  point  lower  down  where  those  sheep 
are  grazing.  But  local  authorities  never  act  wisely 
until  they  have  had  an  accident.  Still,  I  suppose  the 
people  of  the  country-side  are  so  well  used  to  this  cliff 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS        69 

road  that  they  never  think  of  the  danger.  Apparently 
it's  the  only  road  between  Ashlingsea  and  Staveley." 

Crewe  slowly  filled  his  large  pipe,  and  lit  it.  He 
smoked  thoughtfully,  gazing  round  at  the  scene.  The 
high  headland  on  which  they  stood  commanded  an  un- 
interrupted view  of  downs,  sea,  and  coast.  It  was  a 
clear  day,  and  the  distant  city  of  Staveley,  with  its 
towering  spires,  was  silhouetted  against  the  sky  like  an 
etching  in  grey.  To  the  left  the  fishing  village  of  Ash- 
lingsea nestled  on  the  sands,  its  stone-grey  houses 
gleaming  in  a  silver  setting,  the  sails  of  its  fishing  fleet 
flecked  white  on  the  sunlit  blue  of  the  sea. 

On  the  Ashlingsea  side  the  cliffs  fell  away  quickly, 
and  sloped  down  to  a  level  beach  less  than  a  mile  from 
the  headland.  About  five  hundred  yards  from  the  head- 
land the  cliff  front  was  less  precipitous,  and  a  footpath 
showed  a  faint  trail  on  its  face,  running  down  to  a 
little  stone  landing  place,  where  a  fisherman  could  be 
seen  mooring  a  boat.  Crewe  pointed  out  the  path  to 
Marsland. 

"I  should  like  to  explore  that  path,"  he  said.  "I 
should  say  it  is  not  very  far  from  Cliff  Farm.  Do 
you  think  you  could  manage  it?" 

The  question  referred  to  the  fact  that  Marsland  was 
a  wounded  man.  Crewe  had  taken  a  fancy  to  Mars- 
land  on  account  of  his  unaffected  manner  and  manly 
bearing.  It  was  evident  to  him  that  the  young  man 
had  been  a  good  officer,  a  staunch  comrade,  and  that 
he  had  been  extremely  popular  with  the  men  under 
him.  No  word  in  reference  to  Marsland's  military 
career  had  passed  between  Crewe  and  his  companion. 

Crewe  was  anxious  to  respect  the  medical  advice 
•which  forbade  Marsland  to  discuss  the  war  or  any- 


70        THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

thing  relating  to  his  experience  at  the  front.  But  in 
order  to  clear  the  way  for  candour  and  companionship 
Crewe  thought  it  best  to  give  an  occasional  indication 
that  Sir  George  Granville  had  confided  in  him  about 
his  nephew's  state  of  health  and  the  cause  of  it. 
Crewe  was  somewhat  amused  at  the  pains  taken  to 
make  Marsland  forget  his  past  connection  with  the 
Army,  when  in  so  many  ways  he  betrayed  to  any  keen 
observer  the  effects  of  military  training  and  discipline. 

"I  can  manage  it  quite  easily,"  said  Marsland  with 
a  smile,  in  reply  to  Crewe's  question.  "I  am  not 
such  a  wreck  as  you'd  all  like  to  make  me  out.  Come 
along!  I'll  get  to  the  bottom  before  you." 

They  walked  along  t6  the  cliff  path.  When  they 
reached  it  they  found  it  was  not  noticeable  from  the 
road,  which  at  that  point  ran  back  three  hundred  yards 
or  more  from  the  cliff  to  enter  the  hill-cutting.  Cliff 
Farm  stood  in  the  hollow  less  than  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  away.  The  commencement  of  the  path  was 
screened  from  view  by  the  furze  which  grew  along 
the  edge  of  the  cliffs  at  this  point.  It  took  Crewe 
and  Marsland  some  minutes  before  they  could  find  the 
entrance  to  the  path,  but  when  they  did  they  found 
the  descent  by  it  to  the  rocks  below  tolerably  easy, 
the  cliff  at  this  point  not  being  more  than  seventy  feet 
high.  The  track  ended  abruptly  about  fifteen  feet 
from  the  bottom,  but  the  rocks  afforded  good  foot- 
hold and  handhold  for  the  remaining  distance. 

The  tide  was  out,  and  the  coastline  at  the  foot  of 
the  cliffs  showed  for  miles  towards  Staveley  in  black 
rocky  outline,  with  broken  reefs  running  hundreds  of 
yards  out  to  sea. 

"It's  a  bad  piece  of  coast,"  said  Marsland,  eyeing  the 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS        71 

reefs  and  the  rocky  foreshore.  "If  a  ship  had  run 
ashore  anywhere  between  here  and  Staveley  in  last 
night's  storm  she  would  not  have  had  much  chance." 

Crewe  did  not  reply ;  his  keen  eyes  were  fixed  on  a 
line  of  rocks  on  the  right  about  a  hundred  yards  from 
where  they  stood.  He  walked  rapidly  to  the  spot,  and 
Marsland  could  see  him  stoop  down  by  a  pool  in  the 
rocks  and  pick  up  something.  As  he  returned,  Mars- 
land  saw  that  the  detective  was  carrying  a  man's  soft 
grey  felt  hat,  stained  and  saturated  with  sea-water. 

"I  suppose  somebody  lost  it  from  the  cliffs  last 
night,"  remarked  Marsland. 

Crewe  wrung  the  hat  as  dry  as  he  could  with  his 
hands,  rolled  it  up,  and  placed  it  in  an  inside  pocket 
of  his  coat  before  replying. 

"I  do  not  think  it  blew  off  from  the  headland," 
he  said.  "In  fact,  it  couldn't  have  done  so.  There 
may  be  nothing  in  the  find,  but  it's  worth  a  few  in- 
quiries. But  look  at  that  fisherman,  Marsland.  He's 
a  picturesque  touch  of  colour." 

The  fisherman  who  had  been  mooring  his  boat  had 
turned  to  come  off  the  rough  landing-stage.  He 
stopped  when  he  saw  Crewe  and  Marsland,  and  stared 
suspiciously  at  them.  He  was  an  old  man,  but  vigor- 
ous and  upright,  with  a  dark  swarthy  face,  hooked 
nose,  and  flashing  black  eyes,  which  contrasted  strik- 
ingly with  a  long  snow-white  beard.  He  wore  a  long 
red  cloak  fastened  to  his  neck  with  clasps,  and  reach- 
ing nearly  to  his  feet,  which  were  bare. 

He  stood  for  a  few  moments  looking  at  the  two 
men,  his  red  cloak  making  a  bright  splash  of  colour 
against  the  grey  stones  of  the  landing.  Then,  with  a 
slight  shrug  of  his  shoulders,  he  walked  quickly  off 


72        THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

the  landing-place.  Crewe  nodded  to  him  pleasantly  as 
he  approached,  and  asked  him  to  where  the  path  they 
had  just  descended  led. 

The  old  man,  with  a  slight  shake  of  his  head, 
pointed  to  his  lips  and  his  ears,  and  then,  accelerating 
his  pace,  walked  rapidly  away  along  the  rocks  to- 
wards the  headland. 

"Deaf  and  dumb,  poor  beggar!"  said  Marsland, 
watching  his  retreating  figure  until  it  turned  the  head- 
land and  was  lost  to  view.  "I  say,  Crewe,  did  you 
ever  see  such  an  odd  fish  on  an  English  foreshore  ?" 

"Italian,  I  should  say,"  said  Crewe.  "But  he  looks 
as  if  he  might  have  stepped  out  of  a  Biblical  plate. 
He  would  make  an  admirable  model  for  St.  Peter,  with 
his  expressive  eyes  and  hooked  nose  and  patriarchal 
beard.  We'll  have  a  look  at  his  boat." 

They  walked  along  the  landing-place  to  the  boat, 
which  had  been  moored  to  an  iron  ring  at  the  end. 
It  was  a  half  decked  motor-boat  about  twenty  feet 
long,  empty  except  for  a  coil  of  rope  thrown  loosely  in 
the  bottom,  and  a  small  hand  fishing-net.  The  boat 
was  painted  white,  and  the  name  Zulietta  could  be  seen 
on  the  stern  in  black  letters. 

They  turned  away,  and  Crewe  suggested  to  his  com- 
panion that  they  should  walk  along  the  beach  and 
back  to  Cliff  Farm  by  the  road  instead  of  returning 
by  the  path  they  had  just  descended.  He  added  that 
he  wanted  to  have  a  good  look  at  the  approach  to  the 
farm  from  the  village. 

Marsland  readily  agreed,  and  they  walked  for  some 
distance  in  silence.  He  glanced  at  Crewe  expectantly 
from  time  to  time,  but  the  detective  appeared  to  be 
wrapped  in  thought.  When  they  had  covered  more 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS        73 

than  half  the  distance  between  the  landing-place  and 
the  point  where  the  cliffs  sloped  down  to  level  ground, 
Marsland  spoke. 

"Have  you  reached  any  conclusions  yet,  Crewe?" 

"About  this  murder?" 

"Of  course." 

"I  have  not  come  to  many  definite  conclusions  so 
far,"  said  Crewe  meditatively.  "But  of  one  thing  I 
am  certain.  The  unravelling  of  this  crime  is  not  going 
to  be  quite  such  a  simple  matter  as  Inspector  Payne 
seems  to  think." 

"I  gathered  that  you  were  doubtful  about  his  theory 
that  the  man  who  killed  Lumsden  got  in  through  the 
window." 

"Doubtful  about  it?"  echoed  Crewe.  "Doubtful  is 
a  mild  word.  I  am  absolutely  certain  that  he  didn't 
get  in  through  the  window." 

"But  the  catch  was  forced." 

"It  was  forced  from  the  inside." 

Marsland  looked  at  him  in  amazement. 

"How  did  you  find  out  that?"  he  asked. 

"By  inspecting  the  sash.  I  had  a  good  look  at  it 
from  the  inside  and  out.  Apparently  it  hadn't  been 
opened  for  some  time  before  last  night,  and  the  marks 
of  the  knife  which  was  used  to  force  it  were  very 
distinct  in  the  sash  in  consequence.  But  the  marks 
were  broader  and  more  distinct  at  the  top  of  the 
sash  inside  than  at  the  bottom.  Therefore  the  knife 
was  inserted  at  the  top,  and  that  could  be  done  only 
by  a  man  inside  the  house." 

"But  why  was  the  window  forced  if  the  man  was 
inside  ?" 

"In  order  to  mislead  us." 


74        THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

"But  the  footprints  led  up  to  the  window." 

"No,"  said  Crewe.    "They  led  away  from  it" 

"Surely  you  are  mistaken,"  said  Marsland.  "I  don't 
like  trying  to  put  you  right  on  a  matter  of  this  kind, 
but  the  marks  of  the  boots  were  so  distinct;  they  all 
pointed  the  one  way — towards  the  window." 

"Look  behind  you,  at  our  own  footprints  in  the 
sand,"  said  Crewe. 

They  had  left  the  rocks  behind  them  some  time 
previously  and  for  five  minutes  had  been  walking  on 
a  strip  of  sand  which  skirted  the  cliff  road — now  level 
with  the  sea — and  broadened  into  a  beach  nearer  the 
village.  Crewe  pointed  to  the  clear  imprint  of  their 
footsteps  in  the  firm  wet  sand  behind  them. 

"We'll  try  a  little  experiment,"  he  said.  "Let  us 
walk  backwards  for  a  few  yards  over  the  ground  we 
have  just  covered." 

He  commenced  to  do  so,  and  Marsland  wonderingly 
followed  suit.  After  covering  about  twenty  yards  in 
this  fashion  Crewe  stopped. 

"That  will  be  sufficient  for  our  purpose,"  he  said. 
"Now  let  us  compare  the  two  sets  of  footprints — 
the  ones  we  have  just  made,  and  the  previous  ones. 
Examine  them  for  yourself,  Marsland,  and  tell  me 
if  you  can  see  any  difference." 

•  Marsland  did  so.  With  the  mystified  air  of  a  man 
performing  a  task  he  did  not  understand,  he  first 
scrutinized  the  footprints  they  had  made  while  walk- 
ing forwards,  and  then  examined  the  backward  ones. 

"Find  any  difference  in  them?"  asked  Crewe. 

Marsland  stood  up  and  straightened  his  back  with 
the  self-conscious  look  of  an  Englishman  who  feels 
he  has  been  made  to  do  something  ridiculous. 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS        75 

"I  cannot  say  that  I  do.  They  look  very  much  alike 
to  me." 

"You  are  not  very  observant,"  said  Crewe,  with 
a  smile.  "Let  me  explain  the  difference.  In  ordinary 
walking  a  man  puts  down  the  heel  of  his  boot  first, 
and  then,  as  he  brings  his  body  forward,  he  completes 
the  impression  of  his  foot.  He  lifts  his  heel  first  and 
springs  off  the  ball  of  his  foot  for  the  next  step.  But 
in  walking  backwards  a  man  puts  down  the  ball  of  his 
foot  first  and  makes  but  a  very  faint  impression  with 
his  heel.  If  he  walks  very  carefully  because  he  is 
not  sure  of  the  ground,  or  because  it  is  dark,  he  may 
take  four  or  five  steps  without  bringing  his  heel  to 
the  ground.  If  you  compare  the  impressions  your 
boots  have  made  in  the  sand  when  we  were  walking 
forward  with  the  others  made  by  walking  backward, 
you  will  find  that  few  of  the  latter  marks  give  the 
complete  impression  of  your  boot." 

"Yes,  I  see  now,"  said  Marsland.  "The  difference 
is  quite  distinct." 

"When  I  examined  the  window  this  afternoon,  and 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  it  had  been  forced  from 
the  inside,  I  felt  certain  that  a  murderer  who  had 
adopted  such  a  trick  in  order  to  mislead  the  police 
would  carry  it  out  in  every  detail,"  said  Crewe. 
"After  forcing  the  window  he  would  get  out  of  it 
in  order  to  leave  footprints  underneath  the  window 
in  the  earth  outside,  and  of  course  he  would  walk 
backwards  from  the  window,  in  order  to  convey  the 
impression  that  he  had  walked  up  to  the  window 
through  the  garden,  forced  it  and  then  got  into  the 
house.  As  I  expected,  I  found  the  footsteps  leading 
away  from  the  window  were  deep  in  the  toe,  with 


76        THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

hardly  any  heel  marks.  It  was  as  plain  as  daylight 
that  the  man  who  had  made  them  had  walked  back- 
wards from  the  window.  But  even  if  I  had  not  been 
quite  sure  of  this  from  the  footprints  themselves, 
there  was  additional  confirmation.  The  backward 
footsteps  led  straight  to  a  fruit  tree  about  twenty 
feet  from  the  window,  and  on  examining  that  tree 
I  found  a  small  branch — a  twig — had  been  broken  and 
bent  just  where  the  footsteps  were  lost  in  the  gravel- 
walk.  The  man  who  got  out  of  the  window  had 
bumped  into  the  tree.  Walking  backwards  he  could 
neither  see  nor  feel  where  he  was  going." 

"I  see — I  see,"  Marsland  stood  silent  for  a  moment 
evidently  pondering  deeply  over  Crewe's  chain  of  de- 
ductions. "It  seems  to  me,"  he  said  at  length,  "that 
this  man,  clever  as  he  was,  owed  a  great  deal  to 
accident." 

"In  what  respect?" 

"Because  the  window  where  you  found  the  foot- 
prints is  the  only  window  on  that  side  of  the  house 
which  has  a  bare  patch  of  earth  underneath.  All  the 
others  have  grass  growing  right  up  to  the  windows. 
I  noticed  that  when  I  saw  the  footprints.  If  he  had 
got  out  of  any  of  them  he  would  have  left  no  foot- 
prints." 

"On  the  contrary,  he  knew  that  and  chose  that  win- 
dow because  he  wanted  to  leave  us  some  footprints. 
The  fact  that  he  selected  in  the  dark  the  only  window 
that  would  serve  his  purpose  shows  that  he  is  a  man 
who  knows  the  place  well.  He  is  clever  and  resource- 
ful, but  that  is  no  reason  why  we  should  not  succeed 
in  unmasking  him." 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS        77 

"Doesn't  the  fact  that  he  wore  hobnailed  boots  in- 
dicate that  he  is  a  labouring  man?" 

"My  dear  Marsland,  may  he  not  have  worn  boots 
of  that  kind  for  the  same  reason  that  he  walked 
backwards — to  mislead  us  all?" 

"I  gathered  that  you  do  not  agree  with  Inspector 
Payne  that  the  marks  on  the  stairs  were  caused  by 
the  intruder  trying  to  obliterate  with  a  wet  cloth  the 
marks  he  made  by  his  muddy  boots." 

"Outside  the  house  he  does  his  best  to  leave  foot- 
prints; and  inside,  according  to  Inspector  Payne,  he 
takes  special  pains  to  remove  similar  traces.  It  is 
hopeless  trying  to  reconcile  the  two  things,"  said 
Crewe. 

"Well,  what  do  you  think  were  the  original  marks 
on  the  stairs  that  the  intruder  was  so  anxious  to 
remove  ?" 

"Blood-stains." 

"But  why  should  he  go  to  the  trouble  of  removing 
blood-stains  on  the  stairs  and  yet  leave  so  much  blood 
about  in  the  room  in  which  the  body  was  discovered  ?" 

"I  have  asked  myself  that  question,"  said  Crewe. 
"At  the  present  stage  it  is  very  difficult  to  answer." 

"You  think  it  adds  to  the  mystery?" 

"For  the  present  it  does.  But  it  may  prove  to  b« 
a  key  which  will  open  many  closed  doors  in  this  in- 
vestigation." 

"Your  mention  of  closed  doors  suggests  another 
question,"  said  Marsland.  "Why  did  this  man  get 
out  of  the  window  and  walk  backwards?  If  he  wanted 
to  leave  misleading  clues  it  would  have  been  just  as 
easy  for  him  to  go  out  by  the  front  door,  walk  up  to 


78        THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

the  window  from  the  path  so  as  to  leave  footprints 
and  then  force  the  window  from  the  outside." 

"Just  as  easy,"  assented  Crewe.  "But  it  would  have 
taken  longer,  because  it  is  more  difficult  to  force 
the  catch  of  a  window  from  the  outside  than  the  in- 
side. I  think  that  we  must  assume  that  he  was  pressed 
for  time." 

"But  I  understand  that  this  man  Lumsden  lived 
alone.  In  that  case  there  would  be  little  danger  of 
interruption." 

"A  man  who  has  just  committed  a  murder  gets  into 
a  state  of  nervous  alarm,"  was  Crewe's  reply.  "He  is 
naturally  anxious  to  get  away  from  the  scene  of  the 
crime." 

"But  if  this  man  knew  the  place  well  he  must  have 
known  that  Lumsden  lived  alone,  and  that  the  dis- 
covery of  the  crime  would  not  take  place  immediately. 
But  for  the  accident  of  my  taking  shelter  there  the 
body  might  have  remained  undiscovered  for  days." 

"Quite  true.  But  that  does  not  affect  my  point  that 
a  murderer  is  always  in  a  hurry  to  get  away." 

"Isn't  the  fact  that  he  went  to  the  trouble  of  wash- 
ing out  blood-stains  on  the  stairs  evidence  that  he  was 
not  in  a  hurry?" 

"No,"  said  Crewe  emphatically.  "I  should  be  more 
inclined  to  accept  it  as  evidence  that  he  expected  some 
one  to  call  at  the  farm — that  either  he  or  Lumsden 
had  an  appointment  with  some  one  there." 

Marsland  looked  very  hard  at  Crewe  as  he  recalled 
the  greeting  Miss  Maynard  had  given  him  when  she 
opened  the  door  to  his  knock. 

"I  did  not  think  of  that,"  he  said. 

"That  supposition  gives  us  a  probable  explanation 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS        79 

why  the  blood-stains  were  wiped  off  the  stairs,  and 
not  off  the  floor  of  the  room  in  which  you 
saw  the  body.  The  murderer  was  expecting  a  vis- 
itor by  appointment.  The  suspicions  of  this  visitor 
would  be  aroused  if  he  saw  blood-stains  on  the  stairs. 
But  as  he  was  not  expected  to  go  upstairs  the  murderer 
did  not  trouble  about  the  stains  in  the  room.  This  is 
another  indication  of  pressure  of  time." 

Marsland  felt  that  Crewe  was  on  the  track  of  dis- 
covering Miss  Maynard's  presence  at  the  farm.  He 
began  to  see  in  the  light  of  Crewe's  deductions  that 
her  chief  object  in  having  asked  him  to  keep  her  name 
out  of  the  affair  was  to  shelter  some  one  else.  But 
having  given  his  word  he  must  keep  it  and  stand  by 
the  consequences. 


CHAPTER  VII 

DEFECTIVE  GILLETT  made  a  journey  to  London  in 
order  to  visit  Somerset  House  and  inspect  the  will  left 
by  James  Lumsden,  the  grandfather  of  the  man  who 
had  been  murdered.  He  had  been  able  to  ascertain, 
from  local  sources  of  information  at  Ashlingsea,  some 
of  the  details  of  the  will,  but  as  an  experienced  de- 
tective he  knew  the  value  of  exact  details  obtained 
from  official  sources. 

His  perusal  of  the  will  showed  him  that  Giff  Farm 
and  all  the  testator's  investments  and  personal  prop- 
erty had  been  left  to  his  nephew  Frank,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  legacies  to  three  old  servants  who  had  been 
in  his  employ  for  over  a  quarter  of  a  century. 

Gillett  had  ascertained  from  previous  inquiries  that 
Frank  was  at  the  front  in  France  when  his  grand- 
father died.  He  had  been  brought  up  at  the  farm,  but 
as  his  inclinations  did  not  tend  to  a  farming  life, 
he  had  left  his  grandfather,  and  gone  to  London, 
\vhere  he  had  earned  a  livelihood  as  a  clerk  prior  to 
enlisting  in  the  Army.  According  to  Ashlingsea  gos- 
sip, old  James  Lumsden  had  been  a  man  of  consider- 
able wealth;  though  local  estimates  of  his  fortune 
varied  considerably,  ranging  from  £20,000  to  five  times 
that  amount.  Gillett's  inspection  of  the  terms  of  the 
will  convinced  him  that  the  lower  amount  was  some- 
what nearer  the  correct  figure;  and  an  interview  with 
Messrs.  Holding,  Thomas  &  Holding,  the  London 

80 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS        81 

solicitors  who  had  drawn  up  the  will,  supported  this 
view. 

It  was  the  elder  Mr.  Holding,  the  senior  partner 
of  the  firm,  who  had  transacted  Mr.  Lumsden's  busi- 
ness and  had  taken  the  instructions  for  drawing  up  the 
will.  The  document  had  been  executed  seven  years 
ago.  Mr.  Holden,  senior,  a  white  haired  old  gentleman 
whose  benign  appearance  seemed  out  of  harmony  with 
the  soulless  profession  he  adorned,  told  Gillett  that 
Mr.  Lumsden  had  consulted  him  on  several  occasions 
about  business  matters,  but  the  old  man  was  extremely 
intelligent  and  capable,  and  kept  his  affairs  so  entirely 
in  his  own  hands  that  he  was  not  a  very  profitable 
client. 

The  solicitor  did  not  even  know  the  extent  of  the 
old  farmer's  investments,  for  his  client,  who  hated  to 
disclose  much  of  his  private  affairs  even  to  his 
solicitor,  had  taken  care  when  the  will  was  drawn  up 
not  to  tell  him  much  about  the  sources  of  his  in- 
come. Mr.  Holding  had  been  consulted  by  Frank 
Lumsden  after  he  had  come  into  his  grandfather's 
estate,  and  on  his  behalf  had  made  some  investiga- 
tions concerning  the  time  the  old  man  had  converted 
his  securities  into  cash.  Of  course  the  grandfather 
had  lost  heavily  in  doing  so,  for  the  stock  market 
was  greatly  depressed  immediately  after  the  war  broke 
out.  But  he  had  probably  realized  between  ten  and 
fifteen  thousand  pounds  in  cash. 

Where  this  money  had  gone  was  a  mystery.  All 
the  ready  money  that  Frank  Lumsden  had  handled 
when  he  came  into  the  property  was  the  sum  of 
eighty-five  pounds,  which  had  been  standing  to  the 
old  farmer's  credit  in  the  bank  at  Staveley.  Most 

G 


82        THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

of  this  amount  had  been  swallowed  up  by  the  funeral 
and  legal  expenses  connected  with  the  transfer  of  the 
deeds.  The  young  man  had  naturally  been  eager  to 
find  some  trace  of  the  missing  money.  Mr  Holding 
was  inclined  to  the  belief  that  the  old  man's  mental 
balance  had  been  disturbed  by  the  war.  He  thought 
that  fear  of  a  German  invasion  had  preyed  on  his 
mind  to  such  an  extent  that  he  had  buried  his  money, 
intending  to  dig  it  up  after  the  war  was  over.  Frank 
had  sold  some  of  the  farming  machinery  in  order  to 
provide  himself  with  ready  money.  In  this  way  over 
£200  had  been  obtained. 

Nothing  had  been  paid  to  the  three  old  servants  who 
had  been  left  legacies.  The  old  farmer  had  frac- 
tured his  skull  through  falling  downstairs,  and  had 
died  without  recovering  consciousness,  and  therefore 
without  realizing  the  emptiness  of  the  reward  he  had 
left  to  his  faithful  servants.  To  Mrs.  Thorpe,  his 
housekeeper,  he  intended  to  leave  £200,  and  legacies 
of  half  that  amount  to  two  of  his  old  farm-hands, 
Samuel  Hockridge  and  Thomas  Jauncey. 

Mrs.  Thorpe  was  a  widow  who  had  had  charge  of 
the  domestic  management  of  the  house  for  thirty- 
seven  years.  Hockridge,  who  was  over  seventy  years 
of  age,  had  spent  over  thirty  years  with  James  Lums- 
den  as  shepherd,  and  Jauncey,  another  shepherd,  had 
been  twenty-eight  years  at  Cliff  Farm. 

Detective  Gillett  had  no  difficulty  in  tracing  each 
of  these  three  old  servants  and  interviewing  them. 
Mrs  Thorpe  had  gone  to  live  with  a  married  daughter 
at  Woolwich.  Gillett  found  her  a  comparatively 
cheerful  old  woman,  and,  though  the  loss  of  her  legacy 
which  her  old  master  had  intended  to  leave  her  was  a 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS       83 

sore  memory,  she  had  little  complaint  to  make  against 
him.  She  was  full  of  hope  that  her  master's  money 
would  ultimately  be  found  and  that  she  would  get 
her  legacy. 

Hockridge  had  gone  into  the  service  of  a  neighbour- 
ing sheep-farmer  on  the  Staveley  Downs.  It  was 
true  that  his  best  days  were  over,  but  he  had  a  pro- 
found practical  knowledge  of  sheep,  and  as  labour 
was  scarce,  owing  to  the  war,  the  farmer  had  been 
glad  to  get  him.  When  Gillett  interviewed  him  in  his 
new  employment  he  found  that  the  loss  of  his  prom- 
ised legacy  from  his  old  master  had  soured  him.  To 
the  detective's  optimistic  view  that  the  missing  money 
would  be  found,  he  replied  that  it  would  be  too  late 
for  him — he  would  be  in  his  grave. 

One  hundred  pounds  was  more  than  his  year's  earn- 
ings, and  it  represented  wealth  to  him.  He  dwelt  on 
the  ease  and  comfort  he  would  have  been  able  to  com- 
mand with  so  much  money.  He  could  give  no  clue 
regarding  the  hiding-place  of  the  old  farmer's  for- 
tune. He  was  familiar  with  every  foot  of  ground  on 
the  farm,  but  he  knew  of  no  place  that  suggested  a 
hiding-place  for  a  large  sum  of  money.  If  it  had 
been  buried,  his  old  master  must  have  buried  it  him- 
self, and  therefore  the  garden  was  the  most  likely 
place.  But  the  garden  had  been  turned  over  by  zeal- 
ous searchers  under  the  direction  of  Master  Frank, 
and  no  trace  of  money  had  been  found  there. 

It  was  evident  to  Detective  Gillett  that  this  feeble 
old  man  had  not  killed  Frank  Lumsden.  Although  he 
regarded  the  loss  of  the  legacy  as  the  greatest  disap- 
pointment that  could  befall  any  man,  he  felt  no  active 
resentment.  He  accepted  it  as  a  staggering  blow  from 


84        THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

fate  which  had  dealt  him  many  blows  during  a  long 
life.  The  detective's  inquiries  showed  that  on  the  day 
of  the  murder,  and  for  weeks  before  it,  Hockridge 
performed  his  ordinary  duties  on  the  farm  of  his  new 
employer,  and  therefore  could  not  have  been  near 
Cliff  Farm,  which  was  ten  miles  away  from  the  farm 
on  which  he  was  now  employed. 

Thomas  Jauncey  was  an  inmate  of  Staveley  Infirm- 
ary, suffering  from  a  severe  attack  of  rheumatism 
which  rendered  him  unable  to  get  about  except  with 
the  aid  of  two  sticks.  Gillett's  inquiries  established  the 
fact  that  he  was  crippled  in  this  way  when  Frank 
Lumsden  was  murdered.  Nevertheless,  he  went  over 
to  Staveley  to  interview  the  old  man.  He  found  him 
sitting  in  a  chair  which  had  been  wheeled  into  the 
yard  to  catch  the  weak  rays  of  the  autumn  sunshine. 
He  was  a  tall  old  man,  with  a  large  red  weather-beaten 
face  surrounded  by  a  fringe  of  white  whisker,  and  his 
two  hands,  which  were  crossed  on  a  stick  he  held  in 
front  of  him,  were  twisted  and  gnarled  with  the  rheu- 
matism that  had  come  to  him  as  the  result  of  half  a 
century's  shepherding  on  the  bleak  downs.  The 
mention  of  the  legacy  he  had  not  received  brought 
a  spark  of  resentment  to  his  dim  eyes. 

"Seems  to  me  I  ought  to  have  been  paid  some'et 
of  what  belongs  to  me,"  he  said  to  Detective  Gillett, 
after  that  officer  had  engaged  him  in  conversation 
about  his  late  master.  "Why  didn't  Master  Frank 
sell  the  farm  and  pay  his  grandfather's  debts  accord- 
ing to  what  the  will  said?  That's  what  ought  to  be 
done." 

"Well,  of  course,  he  might  have  done  that/'  said  the 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS        85 

detective  soothingly.  "But  there  are  different  ways 
of  looking  at  things." 

"There  is  a  right  way  and  a  wrong  way,"  said  the 
old  shepherd,  in  a  tone  which  ruled  out  the  idea  of 
compromise  as  weakness.  "I  ought  to  have  been  paid 
some'et.  That's  what  my  son  says." 

"Ah!"  said  Gillett,  with  sudden  interest.  "That  is 
how  your  son  looks  at  it,  is  it?  And  now  I  come 
to  consider  it,  I  think  he's  right.  He's  a  man  with 
ideas." 

"Xo  one  can't  say  as  he  ain't  always  been  a  clever 
lad,"  said  the  withered  parent,  with  a  touch  of  pride 
in  his  offspring. 

"I'd  like  to  meet  him,"  said  the  detective.  "Where 
is  he  to  be  found  ?" 

"He  is  gard'ner  to  Mrs.  Maynard  at  Ashlingsea. 
Mrs.  Maynard  she  thinks  a  heap  of  him." 

"Ah,  yes,"  said  Gillett.  "I  remember  Sergeant 
Westaway  telling  me  that  you  had  a  son  there.  I'll 
look  him  up  and  have  a  talk  with  him  about  your 
legacy.  We  may  be  able  to  do  something — he  and  I." 

On  returning  to  Ashlingsea,  Detective  Gillett  made 
inquiries  concerning  the  gardener  at  'Beverley,'  the 
house  of  Mrs  Maynard.  Sergeant  Westaway  was 
able  to  supply  him  with  a  great  deal  of  information, 
as  he  had  known  young  Tom  Jauncey  for  over  a  score 
of  years.  Young  Tom  was  only  relatively  young, 
for  he  was  past  forty,  but  he  bore  the  odd  title  of 
Young  Tom  as  a  label  to  distinguish  him  from  his 
father,  who  to  the  people  of  Ashlingsea  was  old 
Tom. 

The  information  Gillett  obtained  was  not  of  a 
nature  which  suggested  that  young  Tom  was  the  sort 


86        THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

of  man  who  might  commit  a  murder.  Mrs  Maynard 
lived  on  her  late  husband's  estate  two  miles  south  from 
Ashlingsea.  The  household  consisted  at  present  of 
herself,  her  daughter,  a  cook,  a  housemaid  and 
young  Tom,  who  was  gardener,  groom  and  handy 
man.  Young  Tom  bore  a  reputation  for  being  "a 
steady  sort  of  chap."  He  liked  his  glass  of  ale,  and 
was  usually  to  be  found  at  The  Black-Horned  Sheep 
for  an  hour  or  so  of  an  evening,  but  no  one  had 
ever  seen  him  the  worse  for  liquor. 

Detective  Gillett  took  a  stroll  over  to  "Beverley"  in 
order  to  interview  young  Tom.  The  house,  an  old 
stone  building,  stood  in  the  midst  of  its  grounds — 
well  away  from  the  sea — on  a  gentle  eminence  which 
commanded  an  extensive  view  of  the  rolling  downs 
for  many  miles  around,  but  the  old  stone  building 
was  sheltered  from  the  fury  of  Channel  gales  by  a 
plantation  of  elm-trees. 

The  detective  found  his  man  digging  in  the 
kitchen-garden  and  preparing  the  ground  for  the 
spring  sowing.  Young  Tom  was  a  thickset  man  of 
middle  age  with  a  large  round  face  that  he  had  inher- 
ited from  his  father.  He  was  a  man  of  slow  thought, 
slow  actions,  and  hard  to  move  once  he  had  made 
up  his  mind.  According  to  Gillett's  standards  his 
appearance  scarcely  justified  the  parental  description 
of  him  as  a  clever  lad. 

The  detective  was  not  an  expert  in  gardening,  his 
life  having  been  spent  in  congested  areas  of  London 
where  the  luxury  of  a  plot  of  ground  is  unknown, 
but  something  in  young  Tom's  method  of  digging 
attracted  his  attention.  It  was  obvious  that  young 
Tom  was  not  putting  much  energy  into  the  operation. 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS        87 

The  fact  that  his  shirt-sleeves  were  not  rolled  up 
but  were  buttoned  at  the  wrist  seemed  to  bear  out 
this  opinion.  With  his  heavy  boot  young  Tom  pressed 
down  the  spade  vigorously,  but  he  brought  up  only 
a  thin  spadeful  of  earth  each  time.  Then  with  his 
spade  in  his  right  hand  he  twisted  the  blade  among 
the  earth  so  as  to  break  it  up. 

Detective  Gillett  brought  the  conversation  round 
from  the  weather  and  vegetable  growing  to  his  recent 
visit  to  young  Tom's  father.  He  spoke  of  the  legacy 
and  expressed  regret  that  old  Tom,  who  if  he  had 
his  rights  would  be  able  to  pay  for  proper  care  and 
nourishment,  should  have  had  to  go  to  the  infirmary. 
But,  according  to  Detective  Gillett,  even  adversity  had 
its  uses.  The  fact  that  old  Tom  was  practically  bed- 
ridden when  the  murder  was  committed  prevented  the 
idle  gossip  of  the  town  from  trying  to  connect  him 
with  the  tragedy. 

The  detective  had  not  expected  to  find  in  young 
Tom  a  fluent  conversationalist,  but  after  a  few  mo- 
ments he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  he  was  a  more 
than  ordinarily  hesitating  one,  even  according  to 
the  slow  standard  of  Ashlingsea.  Apparently  young 
Tom  did  not  want  to  discuss  the  murder.  Detective 
Gillett  kept  the  conversation  on  that  subject  and  soon 
arrived  at  the  conclusion  that  young  Tom  was  un- 
easy. It  came  to  him  suddenly  that  what  was  wrong 
with  the  man's  method  of  digging  was  that  to  all 
practical  purpose  he  was  using  only  one  arm.  Young 
Tom  was  careful  not  to  put  any  weight  on  his  left 
arm. 

"What  is  wrong  with  your  arm?"  exclaimed  the 
detective  in  an  imperative  tone. 


88        THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

Tom  stopped  digging  and  looked  at  him. 

"Nothing,"  he  replied  in  a  surly  tone. 

"Let  me  have  a  look,"  said  the  detective,  stepping 
towards  him. 

"No,  I  won't,"  answered  young  Tom,  stepping  back 
slowly. 

Gillett  looked  him  over  from  head  to  foot  as  if 
measuring  him.  His  eyes  rested  on  the  man's  boots, 
and  then  turned  to  an  impression  made  on  the  soft 
earth  by  one  of  the  boots. 

"I  want  you  to  come  along  to  the  police  station 
with  me,"  he  said  suddenly. 

"What   for?"  asked  Tom  in  a  tone  of   defiance. 

Gillett  looked  him  over  again  as  if  to  assure  him- 
self that  he  had  made  no  mistake  in  his  first  meas- 
urements. 

"I'll  tell  you  when  you  get  there,"  was  the  reply. 

"I  had  nothing  to  do  with  it,"  said  Tom. 

It  was  plain  to  Gillett  that  the  man  was  under- 
going a  mental  strain. 

"With  what?"  asked  the  detective. 

"With  what  you  want  to  ask  me  about." 

For  a  clever  lad  young  Tom  seemed  to  be  making 
a  hash  of  things. 

"I  have  not  said  what  it  is,"  said  Gillett. 

"But  I  know,"  said  Tom. 

If  that  was  the  extent  of  young  Tom's  cleverness 
it  setmed  to  be  leading  him  in  the  direction  of  the 
gallows. 

"You  think  it  is  about  this  murder?"  suggested 
Gillett. 

There  was  a  long  silence.  Gillett  kept  his  eyes 
steadily  on  his  man,  determined  not  to  help  him  out 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS        89 

by  substituting  another  question  for  the  plain  one 
that  Tom  found  it  so  difficult  to  answer. 

"I'll  come  with  you  to  the  police  station,"  said  Tom 
at  length.  "But  you  go  first  and  I'll  follow  you 
behind." 

It  was  obvious  to  Detective  Gillett  that  Tom  wanted 
to  avoid  giving  the  village  cause  for  gossip  by  his 
being  taken  to  the  police  station  by  a  detective.  The 
detective  was  not  disposed  to  consider  Tom's  feelings, 
but  he  reflected  that  his  main  purpose  was  to  get 
Tom  to  the  station,  and  that  since  he  was  not  prepared 
to  arrest  Tom  at  present  it  was  desirable  to  get  him 
there  as  quietly  as  possible. 

"No,"  he  said.    "You  go  on  ahead  and  I'll  follow." 

Tom  accepted  this  plan  and  walked  up  the  village 
street  to  the  police  station  with  the  detective  about 
forty  yards  behind.  Constable  Heather  was  in  charge 
of  the  station,  and  when  he  saw  Tom  he  greeted  him 
affably.  When  Heather  was  made  to  realize  by  Tom's 
awkwardness  that  Detective  Gillett  was  responsible  for 
his  visit,  he  whistled  in  a  significant  manner. 

When  Gillett  entered  the  building  Tom  rolled  up 
the  sleeve  of  his  left  arm  and  displayed  a  bandage 
round  the  upper  part. 

"Do  you  want  to  see  this?"  he  asked  doggedly. 

"I  do,"  replied  the  detective  with  keen  interest. 
He  was  anxious  as  to  the  nature  of  the  wound,  but 
he  was  too  cautious  to  display  a  curiosity  which 
would  reveal  his  ignorance.  He  assisted  at  unwind- 
ing the  bandage. 

"Be  careful,"  said  Tom  wincing,  as  the  detective's 
hand  touched  his  arm.  "The  bullet  is  in  it." 

"Is  it?"  said  Gillett. 


90        THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

When  the  bandage  was  off  he  examined  the  wound 
carefully.  It  was  a  bullet  wound  through  the  fleshy 
upper  part  of  the  arm,  dangerously  inflamed  and  swol- 
len from  dirt  and  neglect. 

"You  had  better  get  this  attended  to/'  said  Gillett 
"There  is  a  risk  of  blood  poisoning  and  the  bullet 
must  be  removed.  You'll  be  more  comfortable  with- 
out that  bullet,  and  I  want  it." 

"I  had  nothing  to  do  with  him,"  said  Tom.  He 
spoke  in  a  loud  excited  voice.  It  was  evident  that 
he  was  feeling  the  strain  of  being  under  suspicion. 

"But  you  were  at  Cliff  Farm  the  night  Frank 
Lumsden  was  murdered,"  said  Gillett,  eyeing  him 
closely  as  he  put  the  question. 

Young  Tom  nodded  a  surly  admission,  but  did  not 
speak. 

"What  were  you  doing  there?  How  did  you  get 
this?"  Detective  Gillett  pointed  to  the  wound. 
"Take  my  advice  and  make  a  clean  breast  of  it. 
I'll  give  you  five  minutes  to  make  up  your  mind." 
Gillett  picked  up  a  pair  of  handcuffs  from  the  office 
table  as  he  spoke,  and  jingled  them  together  non- 
chalantly. 

Young  Tom's  ruddy  colour  faded  as  he  glanced 
at  the  handcuffs,  and  from  them  his  eyes  wandered 
to  Police  Constable  Heather,  as  though  seeking  his 
counsel  to  help  him  out  of  the  awkward  position  in 
which  he  found  himself.  But  Police  Constable 
Heather's  chubby  face  was  set  in  implacable  lines,  in 
which  young  Tom  could  recognize  no  trace  of  the  old 
acquaintance  who  for  years  past  had  made  one  of 
the  friendly  evening  circle  in  the  tap-room  of  The 
Black-Horned  Sheep.  Young  Tom  turned  his  gaze 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS        91 

to  the  floor  and  after  remaining  in  silent  cogitation 
for  some  moments  spoke : 

"I  was  in  the  garden.  It  was  before  the  storm 
came  on.  I  don't  know  who  killed  Frank  Lumsden. 
I  didn't  see  either  of  them.  They  were  in  the  house 
before  I  got  there.  I  saw  a  light  in  a  room  upstairs. 
Then  a  gun  or  something  of  the  kind  was  fired  and 
I  felt  that  I  was  hit.  I  got  up  and  ran." 

"Do  you  mean  that  some  one  fired  at  you  from  the 
house?" 

"That's  what  I  mean." 

"Whereabouts  were  you?" 

"Just  near  the  cherry-tree  at  the  side  of  the  house." 

"Did  you  see  who  fired  it  at  you?" 

"No." 

"Didn't  anyone  call  out  and  ask  you  what  you 
were  doing  there?" 

"No." 

"He  just  fired — whoever  it  was." 

"I  heard  the  gun  go  off  and  then  I  felt  a  pain  in 
my  arm.  I  touched  it  and  saw  it  was  bleeding.  Then 
I  ran  and  that  is  all  I  know." 

"I  want  to  know  a  lot  more  than  that,"  said 
Gillett  sternly.  "Your  story  won't  hold  water.  What 
were  you  doing  there  in  the  first  place?  Why  did 
you  go  there?" 

"I  went  there  to  look  for  the  money.  I  thought 
there  was  no  one  at  home  and  I  meant  to  look  for  it 
in  the  garden  round  about." 

"Did  you  take  a  spade  with  you?"  asked  Gillett. 

"What  would  I  want  to  do  that  for?"  asked  Tom. 

"Well,  you  can't  dig  without  a  spade,"  said  Gillett. 

"There's  spades  enough  in  the  barn,"  said  Tom. 


92        THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

"You  meant  to  dig  for  the  money?" 

"Yes." 

"Where?" 

"In  the  garden." 

"Whereabouts  in  the  garden  ?  Don't  you  know  that 
the  garden  has  been  turned  over  several  times?" 

"I've  heard  that,  but  I  wanted  to  dig  for  myself." 

"It  would  take  one  man  a  week  to  dig  over  the 
garden.  No  one  knows  that  better  than  you." 

"I  was  going  to  try  just  near  the  pear-tree.  I 
count  that's  a  likely  place." 

"And  did  you  dig  there?" 

"No.  Didn't  I  tell  you  there  was  lights  in  the 
house  when  I  got  there?" 

"A  likely  story,"  sneered  the  detective.  "You 
went  there  to  dig  in  the  garden,  although  you 
knew  it  had  been  turned  over  thoroughly.  You 
didn't  take  a  spade  with  you,  and  you  didn't  turn 
over  as  much  as  a  single  clod.  But  you  came  away 
with  a  bullet  wound  in  the  arm  from  a  house  in 
which  the  murdered  body  of  the  owner  was  subse- 
quently found." 

Dull  as  young  Tom  was,  he  seemed  to  realize  that 
the  detective  had  a  gift  of  making  things  appear 
as  black  as  they  could  be. 

"I've  told  you  the  truth,"  he  said  obstinately. 

"And  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  your  story,"  said 
Detective  Gillett 


CHAPTER  VIII 

CREWE  spent  two  days  in  making  investigations  at 
Cliff  Farm  and  at  Ashlingsea.  He  went  over  the 
farm  very  carefully  in  search  of  any  trace  of  dis- 
turbed ground  which  might  indicate  where  old  James 
Lumsden  had  buried  the  money  he  had  obtained  from 
the  sale  of  his  investments.  But  he  found  nothing 
to  support  the  theory  that  the  money  had  been  buried 
in  the  fields. 

There  were,  of  course,  innumerable  places  where  a 
few  bags  of  money  might  be  hidden,  especially  along 
the  brook  which  ran  through  the  farm,  but  though 
Crewe  searched  along  both  banks  of  the  brook,  as 
well  as  in  the  open  fields,  he  found  no  trace  of  dis- 
turbed ground.  The  garden,  he  ascertained,  had  been 
thoroughly  searched  under  the  direction  of  Frank 
Lumsden. 

Crewe  realized  that  searching  for  the  money  with- 
out the  assistance  of  the  mysterious  plan  which  Mars- 
land  had  seen  on  the  staircase  was  almost  hopeless, 
and  he  was  not  affected  by  his  failure. 

His  inquiries  at  Ashlingsea  concerned  the  char- 
acter and  habits  of  the  grandfather  and  the  murdered 
man.  In  the  course  of  his  inquiries  about  the  grand- 
son he  went  up  to  London  and  called  on  the  former 
employers  of  Frank  Lumsden,  and  the  firm  of  Messrs 
Tittering  &  Hemmings,  wholesale  leather  merchants, 
gave  Frank  an  excellent  character.  He  had  been  a 

93 


94        THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

sober,  industrious,  and  conscientious  clerk,  and  they 
were  greatly  shocked  at  the  fate  that  had  befallen 
him.  They  could  throw  no  light  on  the  murder,  foi 
they  knew  of  no  one  who  had  any  enmity  against 
Frank.  Inquiries  were  also  made  by  Crewe  at  the 
headquarters  of  the  London  Rifle  Brigade,  in  which 
the  young  man  had  enlisted.  His  military  record  was 
good,  and  threw  no  light  on  his  tragic  fate. 

Crewe  returned  to  Staveley  to  continue  his  work 
on  the  case.  Sir  George  Granville,  in  his  anxiety  to 
be  helpful  in  solving  the  mystery,  put  forward  many 
suggestions  to  his  gttest,  but  they  were  not  of  a 
practical  kind.  On  points  where  Crewe  did  ask  for 
his  host's  assistance,  Sir  George  was  unable  to  re- 
spond, in  spite  of  his  eagerness  to  play  a  part  in  the 
detective's  investigations.  For  instance,  Sir  George 
was  not  able  to  give  any  information  about  the  old 
boatman  whom  Crewe  and  Marsland  had  seen  at  the 
landing-place,  at  the  foot  of  the  cliffs  near  the  scene 
of  the  tragedy. 

Sir  George  had  often  seen  the  man  in  the  scarlet 
cloak,  and  knew  that  he  plied  for  hire  on  the  front, 
but  he  had  never  been  in  the  old  man's  boat,  and 
did  not  know  where  he  lived  or  anything  about  him 
beyond  the  fact  that  he  was  called  Pedro  by  the 
Staveley  boatmen,  and  was  believed  to  be  an  Italian. 

"I'll  tell  you  what,  Crewe,"  said  Sir  George,  a 
bright  idea  occurring  to  him  as  the  result  of  reac- 
tionary consciousness  that  he  was  not  a  mine  of  in- 
formation in  local  matters.  "You  go  up  and  see 
Inspector  Murchison.  He's  a  rare  old  gossip.  He 
has  been  here  for  a  generation  and  knows  everybody 
and  all  about  them.  And  mention  my  name — I'll 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS        95 

give  you  my  card.  You  will  find  he  will  do  anything 
for  me.  I'd  go  along  with  you  myself,  only  I  have 
promised  to  make  a  call  with  Mildred.  But  Harry 
will  go  with  you — Harry  knows  Murchison;  I  intro- 
duced him  yesterday  on  the  front." 

After  lunch,  Crewe,  accompanied  by  Marsland, 
walked  up  to  the  police  station  at  Staveley  to  call  on 
Inspector  Murchison.  The  police  station  was  a 
building  of  grey  stone,  standing  back  in  a  large 
garden.  It  would  have  been  taken  for  a  comfortable 
middle-class  residence  but  for  the  official  notices  of 
undiscovered  crime  which  were  displayed  on  a  black 
board  erected  in  the  centre  flower-bed.  A  young 
policeman  was  sitting  writing  in  a  front  room  over- 
looking the  garden,  which  had  been  turned  into  a 
general  office. 

Crewe,  without  disclosing  his  name  or  using  Sir 
George's  card,  asked  him  if  he  could  see  the  inspector 
in  charge.  The  young  policeman,  requesting  him  to 
take  a  seat,  said  he  would  inquire  if  the  inspector  was 
disengaged,  and  disappeared  into  an  inner  office.  He 
shortly  returned  to  say  that  Inspector  Murchison 
would  see  them,  and  ushered  them  into  the  inner 
office,  where  a  police  officer  sat  writing  at  a  large 
desk. 

Inspector  Murchison  of  Staveley  was  in  every 
way  a  contrast  to  Police-Sergeant  Westaway  of 
Ashlingsea.  He  was  a  large  and  portly  man  with  a 
good-humoured  smile,  twinkling  blue  eyes,  and  a 
protecting  official  manner  which  ladies  who  had  occa- 
sion to  seek  his  advice  found  very  soothing.  He 
had  been  stationed  at  Staveley  for  nearly  thirty  years, 
but  instead  of  souring  under  his  circumscribed  exist- 


96        THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

ence  like  Sergeant  Westaway,  he  had  expanded  with 
the  town,  and  become  more  genial  and  good-tempered 
as  the  years  rolled  on. 

He  was  a  popular  and  important  figure  in  Staveley, 
taking  a  deep  and  all-embracing  interest  in  the  wel- 
fare of  the  town  and  its  inhabitants.  He  was  a  leading 
spirit  in  every  local  movement  for  Staveley's  ad- 
vancement ;  he  was  an  authority  in  its  lore,  traditions, 
vital  statistics,  and  local  government;  he  had  even 
written  a  booklet  in  which  the  history  of  Staveley 
was  set  forth  and  its  attractions  as  a  health  and  pleas- 
ure resort  were  described  in  superlative  terms.  He 
was  regarded  by  the  residents  as  a  capable  mentor 
and  safe  guide  in  all  affairs  of  life,  and  was  the 
chosen  receptacle  of  many  domestic  confidences  of 
a  delicate  and  important  nature.  Husbands  con- 
sulted him  about  their  wives'  extravagance;  wives 
besought  him  to  warn  husbands  against  the  folly  of 
prolonged  visits  to  hotels  on  the  front  because  there 
happened  to  be  a  new  barmaid  from  London. 

It  was  striking  proof  of  Inspector  Murchison's 
rectitude  that,  although  he  was  the  repository  of  as 
many  domestic  histories  as  a  family  physician  or 
lawyer,  none  of  the  confidences  given  him  had  ever 
become  common  gossip.  For  all  his  kindly  and  talka- 
tive ways,  he  was  as  secret  and  safe  as  the  grave, 
despite  the  fact  that  he  had  a  wife  and  five  grown- 
up daughters  not  less  curious  than  the  rest  of  their 
sex.  He  was  an  efficient  police  officer,  carefully 
safeguarding  the  public  morals  and  private  property 
entrusted  to  his  charge,  and  Staveley  shopkeepers, 
as  they  responded  to  his  smiling  salutations  when  he 
walked  abroad,  felt  that  they  could  sleep  in  peace  in 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS       97 

their  beds,  safe  from  murder,  arson,  or  robbery, 
while  his  portly  imposing  official  personality  guarded 
the  town. 

Inspector  Murchison  swung  round  on  his  office  chair 
as  Crewe  and  Marsland  were  brought  in  by  the  young 
policeman. 

"What  can  I  do  for  you,  gentlemen?"  he  asked 
courteously. 

"This  is  Mr  Crewe,"  said  Marsland.  "Mr  Crewe 
has  been  making  inquiries  about  the  murder  at  Cliff 
Farm." 

"Glad  to  see  you  both,"  said  Inspector  Murchison, 
extending  his  hand.  "If  I  can  be  of  any  assistance 
to  Mr  Crewe  he  has  only  to  say  so.  Of  course  I've 
heard  all  about  the  murder  at  Cliff  Farm.  It  was 
you  who  discovered  the  body,  Mr  Marsland.  A  ter- 
rible affair.  Poor,  inoffensive  Frank  Lumsden!  I 
knew  him  well,  and  his  grandfather  too — a  queer  old 
stick.  Buried  his  money  where  no  one  can  find  it. 
And  that  is  what  is  at  the  back  of  this  murder,  Mr 
Crewe,  I  have  no  doubt." 

"It  certainly  looks  like  it,"  said  Crewe. 

"What  is  your  opinion,  inspector,  with  regard  to 
the  money?"  asked  Marsland.  "Do  you  think  that 
young  Lumsden  found  it  and  refused  to  pay  the 
legacies,  or  that  it  has  never  been  found?" 

"It  has  never  been  found,"  said  Inspector  Murchi- 
son in  a  positive  tone.  "I'm  quite  certain  of  that. 
Why,  it  is  scarcely  more  than  a  week  ago  that  young 
Lumsden  and  his  friend  Brett  came  to  ask  me  if  I 
could  throw  any  light  on  it.  They  had  a  mysterious 
looking  cryptogram  that  young  Lumsden  had  found 

among  his  grandfather's  papers,  and  they  were  cer- 

B 


98        THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

tain  that  it  referred  to  the  hidden  money.  They 
showed  it  to  me,  but  I  could  not  make  head  or  tail 
of  it.  I  recommended  them  to  go  and  see  a  man 
named  Grange  who  keeps  a  second-hand  book  shop 
in  Curzon  Street,  off  High  Street.  He's  a  bibliophile, 
and  would  be  able  to  put  them  on  the  track  of  a 
book  about  cryptograms,  even  if  he  hadn't  one  in  stock 
himself." 

"What  was  the  cryptogram  like?"  asked  Marsland. 
"Was  it  like  this  ?"  He  took  up  a  pen  from  the  table 
and  attempted  to  reproduce  a  sketch  of  the  mysteri- 
ous document  he  had  found  on  the  stairs  at  Cliff 
Farm. 

"Something  like  that,"  said  the  inspector.  "How 
do  you  come  to  know  about  it?" 

"I  found  it  at  the  dead  man's  house  before  I  dis- 
covered the  body.  I  left  it  there,  but  it  was  stolen 
between  the  time  I  left  the  house  and  when  I  returned 
with  Sergeant  Westaway.  At  any  rate  it  has  not 
been  seen  since." 

"Ah,"  said  the  inspector,  "there  you  have  the  mo- 
tive for  the  murder." 

"You  spoke  just  now  of  young  Lumsden's  friend, 
Brett,"  said  Crewe.  "Who  is  Brett?" 

"He  lives  in  Staveley — a  young  fellow  with  a  little 
private  means.  He  and  Lumsden  were  close  friends — 
I  have  often  seen  them  together  about  the  town.  They 
served  in  the  same  regiment,  were  wounded  together, 
taken  prisoners  together  by  the  Germans,  tortured 
together,  and  escaped  together." 

"Brett?"  exclaimed  Marsland  in  a  tone  which 
awakened  Crewe's  interest  "I  know  no  one  named 
Brett" 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS        99 

"No,  of  course  you  wouldn't  know  him,  Mr  Mars- 
land,"  said  the  inspector  genially.  "You  have  not 
been  so  long  in  Staveley  that  you  can  expect  to  know 
all  the  residents.  It's  not  a  very  large  place,  but  it 
takes  time  to  know  all  the  people  in  it." 

"I  was  thinking  of  something  else,"  said  Marsland. 

"What  sort  of  man  was  Brett  to  look  at?"  asked 
Crewe  of  the  inspector. 

"About  the  same  age  as  Lumsden — just  under 
thirty,  I  should  say.  A  thin,  slight,  gentlemanly 
looking  fellow.  Rather  a  better  class  than  poor 
Lumsden.  I  often  wondered  what  they  had  in  com- 
mon." 

Crewe,  who  was  watching  the  effect  of  this  descrip- 
tion on  Marsland,  pressed  for  further  particulars. 

"Average  height?"  he  asked. 

"A  little  under,"  replied  the  inspector.  "Dark  com- 
plexion with  a  dark  moustache — what  there  was  of 
it." 

"I  think  you  said  he  had  been  wounded  and  cap- 
tured by  the  Germans?"  said  Marsland. 

"Tortured  rather  than  wounded,"  replied  the  in- 
spector. "The  Germans  are  fiends,  not  men.  Brett 
and  Lumsden  were  captured  while  out  in  a  listening 
patrol,  and  because  they  wouldn't  give  their  captors 
any  information  they  were  tortured.  But  these  brave 
lads  refused  to  give  the  information  the  Germans 
wanted,  and  ultimately  they  succeeded  in  making  their 
escape  during  an  attack.  I've  listened  to  many  of 
the  experiences  of  our  brave  lads,  but  I  don't  think 
I've  heard  anything  worse  than  the  treatment  of  Brett 
and  this  poor  fellow  who  has  been  murdered." 


ioo      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

"Was  it  at  Armentieres  this  happened?"  asked 
Marsland. 

"I  think  it  was,"  replied  the  inspector.  "Then  you've 
heard  the  story,  too,  Mr.  Marsland?" 

"No,  I  was  thinking  of  something  else,"  he  an- 
swered. 

"We  must  look  up  Brett,"  said  Crewe.  "Just  write 
down  his  address,  inspector — if  you  don't  mind." 

"He  lives  at  No.  41  Whitethorn  Gardens,"  said  the 
police  officer.  "But  I  don't  think  you  will  find  him 
there  to-day.  His  landlady,  Mrs.  Penfield,  promised  to 
send  me  word  as  soon  as  he  got  back.  When  I  heard  of 
this  murder  I  went  down  to  see  Brett  to  find  out 
when  he  had  last  seen  Lumsden,  and  to  get  a  state- 
ment from  him.  But  he  had  gone  up  to  London 
or  Liverpool  the  day  before  the  murder.  Mrs.  Pen- 
field  expects  him  back  early  next  week,  but  it  is  im- 
possible to  be  certain  about  his  return.  The  fact 
is,  Mr  Crewe,  that  he  does  some  secret  service  work 
for  the  Foreign  Office,  and  naturally  doesn't  talk 
much  about  his  movements.  He  is  an  excellent 
linguist  I'm  told,  knows  French  and  Russian  and 
German — speaks  these  languages  like  a  native." 

"There  is  no  hurry  about  seeing  him,"  said  Crewe. 
"I'll  look  him  up  when  he  returns.  In  the  mean- 
time will  you  write  down  his  address  for  me?" 

Marsland,  who  was  nearer  the  inspector,  took  the 
paper  on  which  the  police  officer  wrote  Brett's 
address,  and  before  handing  it  to  Crewe  looked  at 
it  carefully. 

"And  now  can  you  tell  me  anything  about  an  old 
boatman  who  wears  a  scarlet  cloak?"  asked  Crewe. 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      101 

"A  tall  old  man,  with  a  hooked  nose  and  white 
beard?" 

"That's  old  Pedro,"  replied  Inspector  Murchison. 
"He's  well  known  on  the  front,  although  he's  not 
been  here  very  long,  certainly  not  more  than  twelve 
months.  But  I  hope  you  don't  think  Pedro  had  any- 
thing to  do  with  the  Cliff  Farm  murder,  Mr.  Crewe? 
We're  rather  proud  of  Pedro  on  the  front,  he's  an 
attraction  to  the  place,  and  very  popular  with  the 
ladies." 

"Marsland  and  I  saw  him  in  his  boat  at  an  old 
landing-place  near  the  farm  a  few  days  ago,"  re- 
plied Crewe.  "He's  a  man  not  easily  forgotten — once 
seen.  I'd  like  to  find  out  what  took  him  over  in  the 
direction  of  Ashlingsea." 

"He's  often  over  there,"  said  the  inspector.  "That 
is  his  favourite  trip  for  his  patrons — across  the  bay 
and  over  to  the  cliff  landing,  as  we  call  it.  That  is 
the  landing  at  the  foot  of  the  cliffs  near  Cliff  Farm 
— I  daresay  you  noticed  it,  Mr  Crewe?" 

"Yes.  They  told  me  at  Ashlingsea  that  the  land- 
ing-place and  boat-house  belong  to  Cliff  Farm — that 
they  were  put  up  by  old  James  Lumsden." 

"That  is  right,"  said  the  inspector.  "The  old  man 
used  to  do  a  bit  of  fishing — that  is  ten  or  fifteen 
years  ago  when  he  was  an  active  man,  though  getting 
on  a  bit — a  strange  thing  to  combine  farming  and 
fishing,  wasn't  it?  But  he  was  a  queer  sort  in  many 
ways,  was  James  Lumsden." 

"And  where  is  this  man  with  the  scarlet  cloak 
to  be  found  when  he  is  not  on  the  front?"  asked 
Crewe.  "I'd  like  to  have  a  little  talk  with  him." 


102      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

"You'll  find  that  rather  difficult,"  said  the  inspector 
with  a  laugh.  "Old  Pedro  is  deaf  and  dumb." 

"Has  he  any  friends  here,  or  does  he  live  alone?" 

"He  came  here  with  his  daughter  and  her  husband 
and  he  lives  with  them.  His  daughter  is  a  dwarf — 
a  hunchback — and  is  supposed  to  be  a  bit  of  a  clair- 
voyant or  something  of  that  kind.  The  husband 
is  English,  but  not  a  very  robust  type  of  Englishman. 
They  have  a  shop  in  Curzon  Street  off  High  Street — 
second-hand  books." 

"What  is  his  name?"  asked  Crewe. 

"Grange." 

"And  it  was  to  this  man  you  recommended  young 
Lumsden  to  go  for  a  book  on  cryptograms?" 

"Yes;  the  same  man,"  said  the  inspector.  "I  can 
tell  you  a  queer  thing  about  his  wife.  I've  said  she 
is  a  bit  of  a  clairvoyant.  Well,  you  know  there  is 
not  much  love  lost  between  the  police  and  clairvoyants ; 
most  of  them  are  shallow  frauds  who  play  on  the 
ignorant  gullible  public.  But  Mrs.  Grange  is  differ- 
ent: she  isn't  in  the  business  professionally.  And, 
being  a  broad-minded  man,  I  am  ready  to  admit  that 
there  may  be  something  in  clairvoyance  and  spiritual- 
ism, in  spite  of  the  fact  that  they  are  usually  asso- 
ciated with  fraud.  Well,  one  of  my  men,  Constable 
Bell,  lost  a  pendant  from  his  watch-chain.  It  was 
not  very  valuable,  but  it  had  a  sentimental  value.  He 
had  no  idea  where  he  lost  it,  but  he  happened  to  men- 
tion it  to  Mrs.  Grange — this  dwarf  woman — and  she 
told  him  she  might  be  able  to  help  him  in  finding  it. 

"She  took  him  into  a  sitting-room  above  the  shop, 
and  after  getting  his  watch  from  him  held  it  in  her 
hands  for  a  few  moments.  She  told  him  to  keep  per- 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      103 

fectly  still,  and  concentrate  his  mind  on  the  article  he 
had  lost.  She  closed  her  eyes  and  went  into  a  sort 
of  trance.  Then  in  a  strange  far-away  voice  she 
said,  'I  see  water — pools  of  water  among  the  rocks. 
I  see  a  man  and  a  woman  walking  near  the  rocks, 
arm  in  arm.  I  see  the  man  take  the  woman  in  his 
arms  to  kiss  her,  and  the  pendant,  caught  by  a  button 
of  her  blouse,  drops  into  the  pool  at  their  feet.'  That 
was  true  about  the  kissing.  Bell  when  off  duty  visited 
Jiorseley  three  miles  from  here,  with  his  sweetheart,  *. 
and  he  thought  the  dwarf  must  have  seen  them  and 
was  having  a  joke  at  his  expense.  However,  he 
cycled  over  to  Horseley  when  the  tide  was  out  next 
day,  and  much  to  his  surprise  he  found  the  pendant 
in  the  water — just  as  the  dwarf  had  told  him.  How 
do  you  account  for  a  thing  like  that,  Mr.  Crewe  ?" 

"It 'is  very  difficult  to  account  for,"  said  Crewe. 
"Does  this  dwarf  hold  spiritualistic  seances?" 

"Not  that  I  am  aware  of,"  replied  the  inspector. 
"If  she  does,  it  is  in  a  private  capacity,  and  not  as 
a  business." 

"Her  acquaintance  is  worth  cultivating.  We  will 
go  and  see  her,  Marsland." 

Crewe  cordially  thanked  Inspector  Murchison  for 
the  information  he  had  supplied,  and  set  out  with 
Marsland  for  Mr.  Grange's  shop  in  Curzon  Street 

"A  good  man,  Murchison;  he  has  given  us  a  lot 
of  information,"  he  said  to  his  companion  as  they 
drove  along. 

"It  seemed  very  scrappy  and  incomplete  to  me," 
was  Marsland's  reply. 

"Gossipy  is  the  right  word — not  scrappy.  And 
there  is  nothing  more  valuable  than  gossipy  informa- 


104      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

tion;  it  enables  you  to  fill  in  so  many  blanks  in 
your  theory — if  you  have  one." 

"You  have  formed  your  theory  of  how  this  tragedy 
occurred?"  said  Marsland  interrogatively. 

"Part  of  one,"  replied  Crewe. 

Marsland  accepted  this  reply  as  an  intimation  that 
the  detective  was  not  prepared  to  disclose  his  theory 
at  that  stage. 

"That  story  about  the  pendant  was  remarkable," 
he  said.  "Do  you  believe  it?" 

"It  is  not  outside  the  range  of  possibility,"  re- 
plied Crewe.  "Some  remarkable  results  have  been 
achieved  by  psychists  who  possess  what  they  call 
mediumistic  powers." 

"Do  you  really  think  it  possible  that,  by  surrender- 
ing herself  to  some  occult  influence,  this  woman  was 
able  to  reproduce  for  herself  the  scene  between  Con- 
stable Bell  and  his  sweetheart,  and  see  the  pendant 
drop?" 

"That  is  the  way  in  which  psychists  would  explain 
it,  but  I  think  it  can  be  accounted  for  in  a  much  less 
improbable  way.  I  know,  from  my  own  investiga- 
tions into  spiritualism  and  its  claims,  that  some  medi- 
ums are  capable,  under  favourable  conditions,  of 
reading  a  little  of  another  person's  thoughts,  provided 
the  other  person  is  sympathetic  and  tries  to  help.  But 
even  in  this  limited  field  failure  is  more  frequent  than 
success.  But  let  us  suppose  that  Constable  Bell  was 
an  extremely  sympathetic  subject  on  this  occasion. 
How  was  this  woman,  after  getting  Bell  to  concentrate 
his  thoughts  on  the  events  of  the  day  when  he  lost  the 
pendant,  able  to  discover  it  by  reading  Bell's 
thoughts  ?" 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      105 

"Bell's  thoughts  would  not  be  of  much  help  to  her, 
as  he  did  not  remember  when  or  how  he  lost  the  pend- 
ant," said  Marsland. 

"The  point  I  am  aiming  at  is  that  sub-consciously 
Bell  may  have  been  aware  of  the  conditions  under 
which  he  lost  the  pendant,  and  yet  not  consciously 
aware  of  them.  The  human  brain  does  not  work  as 
a  uniform  piece  of  machinery;  it  works  in  sections 
or  in  compartments.  Suppose  part  of  Bell's  brain 
became  aware  that  the  pendant  had  become  detached 
and  tried  to  communicate  the  fact  to  that  part  of  Bell's 
brain  where  he  keeps  toll  of  his  personal  belongings. 
That  would  be  the  normal  procedure,  and  under  nor- 
mal conditions  a  connection  between  these  two  com- 
partments of  the  brain  would  be  established,  and 
Bell  would  stoop  down  and  pick  up  the  pendant. 
But  on  this  occasion  Bell  was  intoxicating  himself  with 
kisses  and  had  put  his  brain  into  an  excitable  state. 
Possibly  that  part  which  keeps  toll  of  his  personal 
possessions  was  particularly  excited  at  the  prospect  of 
adding  the  lady  to  the  list  of  Bell's  belongings. 

"Let  us  assume  that  it  was  too  excited  to  hear 
the  small  warning  voice  which  was  crying  out  about 
the  lost  pendant.  And  when  Bell's  brain  had  be- 
come normal  the  small  voice  had  become  too  weak 
to  be  heard.  It  was  never  able  subsequently  to  estab- 
lish a  connection  between  that  part  of  the  brain  to 
which  it  belonged  and  that  part  where  Bell  keeps 
toll  of  his  property — perhaps  it  never  tried  again, 
being  under  the  impression  that  its  first  attempts  had 
succeeded.  And  so  when  Bell  was  asked  by  Mrs. 
Grange  to  concentrate  his  thoughts  on  the  lost  pendant 
he  was  able  to  reproduce  the  state  in  which  his  brain 


io6      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

was  at  the  time,  and  the  medium  was  able  to  hear 
the  warning  in  Bell's  brain  which  Bell  himself  had 
never  consciously  heard." 

Marsland  looked  hard  at  Crewe  to  see  whether  he 
was  speaking  jestingly  or  seriously,  for  he  had  been 
shrewd  enough  to  discover  that  the  detective  had  a 
habit  at  times  of  putting  forth  fanciful  theories  the 
more  effectually  to  conceal  his  real  thoughts.  It  was 
when  Crewe  talked  most  that  he  revealed  least,  Mars- 
land  thought.  But  as  Crewe's  face,  as  usual,  did 
not  reveal  any  clue  to  his  mind,  the  young  man  mur- 
mured something  about  the  explanation  of  the  pend- 
ant being  interesting,  but  unscientific. 

"What  science  cannot  explain,  it  derides,"  was 
Crewe's  reply. 

"Do  you  sympathize  with  the  complaints  of  the 
spiritualists,  that  scientists  adopt  an  attitude  of  nega- 
tion and  derision  towards  spiritualism,  instead  of  an 
attitude  of  investigation?"  continued  Marsland  in- 
quiringly. 

"I  think  there  is  some  truth  in  that  complaint, 
though  as  far  as  I  am  concerned  I  have  not  found 
much  truth  in  spiritualism.  However,  Mrs.  Grange 
may  be  able  to  convince  me  that  she  uses  her  powers 
to  enlighten,  and  not  to  deceive.  I  am  most  anxious 
to  see  her." 


CHAPTER  IX 

STAVELEY  only  differed  from  a  hundred  other  Eng- 
lish seaside  resorts  by  having  a  sea  front  which  was 
quite  flat,  the  cliffs  which  skirted  the  coastline  from 
Ashlingsea  falling  away  and  terminating  in  sand  dunes 
about  half  a  mile  to  the  south  of  the  town.  At  that 
point  the  cliff  road,  after  following  the  coastline 
for  nearly  twelve  miles,  swept  inland  round  the  sand 
dunes,  which  had  encroached  on  the  downs  more 
than  half  a  mile  from  the  sea,  but  turned  back  again 
near  the  southern  outskirts  of  the  town  in  a  bold  pic- 
turesque curve  to  the  sea  front. 

From  the  sea  front  the  town  rambled  back  with 
characteristically  English  irregularity  of  architecture 
to  the  downs.  There  was  the  usual  seaside  mix- 
ture of  old  and  new  houses,  the  newest  flaunting 
their  red-tiled  ugliness  from  the  most  beautiful  slope* 
of  the  distant  hills. 

Crewe  and  Marsland  drove  slowly  along  to  High 
Street  by  way  of  the  front  after  leaving  the  police 
station.  A  long  row  of  boarding-houses  and  hotels 
faced  the  sea ;  and  there  were  pleasure  boats,  bathing- 
machines,  a  pier  and  a  bandstand.  The  season  was 
practically  over,  but  a  number  of  visitors  still  re- 
mained, making  the  most  of  the  late  October  sun- 
shine, decorously  promenading  for  air  and  exercise. 
It  was  a  typically  English  scene,  except  that  the  band 

107 


io8      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

was  playing  German  music  and  the  Kursaal  still 
flaunted  its  German  name. 

The  front  was  bisected  about  midway  by  the  main 
business  thoroughfare  of  the  town,  and  there  was  a 
sharp  distinction  between  the  two  halfs  of  the  prom- 
enade which  it  divided.  The  upper  half  was  the 
resort  of  fashion  and  the  mode :  the  hotels  were  bigger 
and  more  expensive;  the  boarding-houses  were  des- 
ignated private  hotels.  All  the  amusements  were 
situated  in  this  part  of  the  front:  the  pleasure  boats, 
the  pier,  the  band,  the  goat  carts,  and  the  Bath  chairs. 
The  lower  part  of  the  front  was  practically  deserted, 
its  hotels  and  boarding-houses  looked  empty  and 
neglected,  and  its  whole  aspect  was  that  of  a  poor 
relation  out  of  place  in  fashionable  surroundings. 

Although  Marsland  did  not  know  much  about 
Staveley  he  was  able  to  guide  Crewe  to  Curzon 
Street,  and  once  in  Curzon  Street  they  had  not  much 
difficulty  in  finding  the  shop  kept  by  Mr.  Grange.  It 
was  a  curious  little  white  house  standing  back  a  few 
feet  from  the  footpath,  and  trays  of  second-hand  books 
were  arranged  on  tables  outside. 

Crewe,  after  getting  out  of  his  car,  began  an  in- 
spection of  the  books  on  the  trays  outside  the  shop, 
and  while  engaged  in  this  way  he  saw  a  young  lady 
being  shown  out  of  the  shop.  She  was  a  well  dressed 
graceful  girl,  not  much  more  than  twenty.  Behind  her 
was  the  shopkeeper,  a  tall  thin  man  past  middle  age, 
with  a  weak  irresolute  face  disfigured  by  some  cutane- 
ous disorder,  small  ferrety  grey  eyes,  and  a  straggling 
beard.  As  he  opened  the  door  to  let  the  young  lady 
out  Crewe's  quick  ears  heard  him  remark : 

"Well,  as  I  said,  we  didn't  go  because  we  saw  the 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      109 

storm  coming  up.  I'm  very  glad  now  we  didn't,  as 
things  turned  out.  It's  a  dreadful  affair — dreadful." 

To  Crewe's  surprise  Marsland  stepped  forward 
when  he  saw  the  young  lady,  lifted  his  hat  and  put 
out  his  hand.  Crewe  thought  she  hesitated  a  little 
before  responding. 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you,  Miss  Maynard,"  Marsland 
declared.  "You  are  the  very  person  I  wanted  to  see. 
But  this  is  quite  an  unexpected  meeting." 

"It  is  very  kind  of  you,"  said  the  young  lady  with  a 
smile. 

To  Crewe  it  was  evident  that  she  was  more  em- 
barrassed than  pleased  at  the  meeting. 

Marsland  walked  along  the  street  a  few  paces  with 
Miss  Maynard  and  then  came  back  to  Crewe. 

"Please  excuse  me  for  half  an  hour  or  so,  Crewe. 
I  have  some  things  to  talk  over  with  this  lady." 

He  rushed  back  to  Miss  Maynard's  side  without 
waiting  for  an  answer.  Crewe  watched  them  for  a 
moment  and  then  he  became  aware  that  the  shop- 
keeper standing  at  his  doorway  was  watching  them 
with  a  gaze  of  perplexity. 

"Mr  Grange,  I  believe?"  said  Crewe. 

The  shopkeeper  produced  a  pair  of  spectacles  from 
his  pocket  and  put  them  on  before  replying.  With 
the  spectacles  on  his  small  grey  eyes  he  peered  at 
Crewe,  and  said: 

"What  can  I  do  for  you,  sir?" 

Crewe  saw  that  the  man  was  ill  at  ease,  and  he 
endeavoured  to  bring  him  back  to  his  normal  state. 

"Have  you  a  copy  of  a  book  called  Notitice 
Monastica?"  asked  the  detective.  "It's  a  work  on  the 
early  British  religious  establishments,"  he  explained. 


i  io      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

"No,  sir :  I  don't  think  I've  ever  heard  of  the  book. 
But  perhaps  I  could  get  you  one  if  you  particularly 
want  it." 

"You  might  try  and  let  me  know.  I'll  leave  you 
my  address.  Inspector  Murchison  told  me  that  if 
anyone  could  help  me  you  could." 

"Inspector  Murchison?"  echoed  Mr  Grange  peering 
again  at  Crewe. 

"He  was  most  enthusiastic  about  you,"  continued 
Crewe.  "He  said  that  if  ever  he  wanted  to  know 
anything  about  rare  books  he  would  come  to  you. 
You  have  a  good  friend  in  the  inspector,  Mr  Grange." 

"I  did  not  know — yes  I  think  so — it  was  very 
good  of  him — very  good  indeed."  Mr  Grange  was 
both  relieved  and  pleased  at  being  commended  by 
the  head  of  the  local  police,  for  he  smiled  at  Crewe, 
blinked  his  eyes,  and  rubbed  his  hands  together. 

"And  about  Mrs  Grange  he  was  no  less  enthusi- 
astic," continued  Crewe.  "He  told  me  about  her 
extraordinary  psychic  powers  and  the  recovery  of 
Constable  Bell's  watch-chain  pendant.  A  most  re- 
markable case.  I  take  a  great  interest  in  occultism, 
Mr.  Grange,  and  in  all  forms  of  psychic  power — I 
have  done  so  for  years.  Perhaps  your  wife  would 
grant  me  the  favour  of  an  interview?  I  should  so 
much  like  to  meet  her  and  talk  to  her." 

"Certainly,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Grange,  who  was  now 
delighted  with  his  visitor.  "I  am  sure  she  would  like 
to  meet  a  gentleman  like  yourself  who  is  interested 
in — er — occultism.  Excuse  me  while  I  run  upstairs 
to  her." 

He  left  the  shop  by  a  side-door  opening  on  the 
passage  leading  to  the  private  apartments  above  the 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS   in 

shop.  A  few  minutes  later  he  came  back  with  an 
invitation  to  Crewe  to  follow  him  upstairs  to  the 
sitting-room.  Crewe  followed  him  into  a  room  which 
overlooked  the  street.  In  an  arm-chair  beside  one  of 
the  two  windows  sat  Mrs.  Grange.  She  rose  to  meet 
Crewe.  She  was  about  four  feet  in  height  but  her 
deformed  figure  seemed  to  make  her  look  smaller- 
Her  skin  was  dark  and  coarse  and  her  teeth  were  large. 
On  her  upper  lip  there  was  a  slight  growth  of  haif 
and  her  eyebrows  were  very  thick  and  shaggy.  She  had 
deep  black  eyes,  and  after  her  bow  to  Crewe  she  gazed 
at  him  in  a  fixed  penetrating  way — the  look  of  an  ani- 
mal on  the  watch. 

Crewe  took  particular  note  of  the  way  in  which 
her  black  hair  was  dressed.  He  closed  the  door  be- 
hind him  and  took  a  seat  near  it  when  the  dwarf  sat 
down  in  her  arm-chair.  Mr.  Grange  stood  a  few  feet 
from  his  wife  and  again  rubbed  his  hands  together  to 
express  his  satisfaction. 

"It  is  very  good  of  you  to  see  me,"  said  Crewe  to 
the  dwarf.  "I  was  so  much  struck  with  the  account 
Inspector  Murchison  gave  me  of  your  psychic  powers 
that  it  occurred  to  me  that  you  might  be  able  to 
assist  me  in  a  somewhat  similar  way  to  that  in  which 
you  assisted  Constable  Bell." 

"I  shall  be  pleased  to  try,"  said  the  dwarf  slowly. 
"But  success  is  not  always  possible."  She  spoke  in 
a  thin  high  pitched  voice. 

"So  I  understood,"  said  Crewe.  "But  my  case  is,  I 
think,  less  difficult  than  that  of  Constable  Bell.  I 
have  not  lost  anything.  On  the  contrary  I  have  found 
something,  which  I  want  to  restore  to  the  owner. 


112      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

If  I  gave  you  this  thing  I  have  found  to  hold,  yoa 
could  describe  the  owner  to  me  could  you  not  ?" 

"It  is  possible,"  said  the  dwarf. 

Crewe  produced  from  one  of  the  pockets  of  his 
motor  coat  a  brown  paper  parcel.  He  unwrapped 
the  paper,  keeping  covert  observation  on  the  Granges 
as  he  did  so,  and  displayed  the  old  felt  hat  which  he 
had  found  while  making  his  way  down  the  path 
from  the  top  of  the  cliff. 

"I  am  anxious  to  restore  this  to  its  owner,"  he 
said,  as  he  held  out  the  hat  to  the  dwarf. 

He  intercepted  the  glance  of  angry  reproach  which 
she  gave  her  husband.  The  latter  had  stopped  rub- 
bing his  hands  and  now  stood  gazing  alternately  at 
the  hat  and  at  Crewe,  with  visible  trepidation  on  his 
features.  The  dwarf  gave  the  hat  a  quick  glance,  and 
then  resolutely  turned  to  Crewe. 

"It  is  of  no  value,"  she  said,  in  her  high  pitched 
voice,  meeting  his  glance  intently. 

"Of  very  little  value — from  the  monetary  point  of 
view,"  said  Crewe.  "But  there  are  other  reasons 
why  the  owner  would  like  to  have  it  restored  to  him. 
Do  you  think  you  could  help  me  to  find  him?" 

"No,"  she  replied  decisively.  "I  could  not  help 
you." 

"Why Tasked  Crewe. 

"Because  it  does  not  interest  me.  I  must  feel  an 
interest — I  must  feel  in  sympathy  with  the  object 
on  which  I  am  asked  to  exert  my  powers.  Without 
such  sympathy  I  can  do  nothing,  for  when  I  close 
my  eyes  to  see  the  vision  I  become  as  blind  as  those 
born  without  sight" 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      113 

"And  you  have  no  interest  in  helping  me  to  restore 
this  hat  to  its  owner?"  asked  Crewe. 

"None,"  she  replied. 

"And  you  ?"  said  Crewe,  turning  to  her  husband. 

"I — I  know  nothing  about  it,"  he  stammered.  "It 
is  not  mine." 

"This  hat  was  lost  over  the  cliffs  near  Ashlingsea. 
It  was  lost  the  night  that  the  murdered  body  of  the 
owner  of  the  Cliff  Farm  was  found.  The  owner  was 
so  anxious  to  secure  possession  of  it  that  the  morning 
after  the  murder  he  sent  a  boatman  over  to*the  scene 
to  look  for  it.  Is  not  that  correct  ?"  asked  Crewe  look- 
ing searchingly  at  Mr.  Grange. 

"I  know  nothing  about  it,"  was  the  reply. 

"Perhaps  you  would  like  to  try  it  on,"  said  Crewe, 
picking  up  the  hat  and  holding  it  out  to  the  woman's 
husband. 

"Me?"  exclaimed  the  man,  recoiling  as  he  spoke. 
"Why  should  I  ?  It  is  not  mine." 

"Come,"  said  Crewe,  "I  will  exchange  the  hat  for 
a  candid  statement  of  what  happened  at  Cliff  Farm 
on  that  fateful  night." 

"It  is  not  his,"  declared  the  dwarf.  "We  know 
nothing  about  Cliff  Farm — we  have  never  been  there." 


CHAPTER  X 

"WiLL  you  come  to  some  place  where  we  can  have 
a  talk?" 

"Yes.    Where  shall  we  go?" 

Her  eyes  met  his  frankly,  as  she  replied,  and  Mars- 
land  as  he  looked  at  her  was  impressed  with  her  beauty 
and  the  self-possession  of  her  manner.  She  was 
young,  younger  than  he  had  thought  on  the  night  of 
the  storm — not  more  than  twenty-two  or  twenty- 
three  at  the  most — and  as  she  stood  there,  with  the 
bright  autumn  sunshine  revealing  the  fresh  beauty  of 
her  face  and  the  slim  grace  of  her  figure,  she  made 
a  striking  picture  of  dainty  English  girlhood,  to  whom 
the  sordid  and  tragic  sides  of  life  ought  to  be  a  sealed 
book.  But  Marsland's  mind,  as  he  glanced  at  her, 
travelled  back  to  his  first  meeting  with  her  in  the 
lonely  farm-house  where  they  had  found  the  body  of 
the  murdered  man  on  the  night  of  the  storm. 

He  led  her  to  one  of  the  numerous  tea-rooms  on 
the  front,  choosing  one  which  was  nearly  empty,  his 
object  being  to  have  a  quiet  talk  with  her.  Since  the 
eventful  night  on  which  he  had  walked  home  with  her 
after  they  had  discovered  the  dead  body  of  the  owner 
of  Cliff  Farm,  several  important  points  had  arisen  on 
which  he  desired  to  enlighten  her,  and  others  on  which 
he  desired  to  be  enlightened  by  her. 

"I  thought  of  writing  to  you,"  he  said  after  he  had 
found  seats  for  his  companion  and  himself  in  a  quiet 

114 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      115 

corner  of  the  large  tea-room  and  had  given  an  order 
to  the  waitress.  "But  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  it 
was  unwise — that  you  might  not  like  it." 

He  found  it  difficult  to  strike  a  satisfactory  balance 
in  his  attitude  to  her.  On  the  one  hand,  it  was  im- 
possible to  be  distant  and  formal  in  view  of  the  fact 
that  they  were  united  in  keeping  from  the  police  the 
secret  of  her  presence  at  Cliff  Farm  on  the  night  of 
the  murder;  on  the  other  hand,  he  did  not  wish  to 
adopt  a  tone  of  friendly  familiarity  based  on  his 
knowledge  that  she  had  something  to  hide.  When  he 
studied  her  from  the  young  man's  point  of  view  as 
merely  an  attractive  member  of  the  opposite  sex  he  felt 
that  she  was  a  charming  girl  whose  affection  any  one 
might  be  proud  to  win,  but  his  security  against  her 
charms  was  the  feeling  of  distrust  that  any  one  so 
good-looking  should  have  anything  to  hide.  He  had  no 
sentimental  illusion  that  she  would  confide  her  secret 
to  him. 

She  waited  for  him  to  continue  the  conversation,  and 
pretended  to  be  engaged  in  glancing  round  the  room, 
but  from  time  to  time  she  gave  him  a  quick  glance 
from  beneath  her  long  lashes. 

"What  I  wanted  to  tell  you  most  of  all  is  that,  when 
I  went  back  to  Cliff  Farm  the  next  day,  the  detec- 
tive from  Scotland  Yard  found  a  comb  on  the  floor 
of  the  sitting-room  downstairs  where  we  sat  after  you 
let  me  in." 

"A  comb !"  she  cried.    "What  sort  of  a  comb  ?" 

"A  tortoise-shell  comb  about  three  inches  long,  with 
a  gold  mounting." 

"That  is  strange,"  she  said.  "It  was  found  on  the 
floor?" 


u6  THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

"Close  to  the  chair  where  you  stood." 

"Do  they  know  whom  it  belongs  to?" 

"No,  fortunately.  But  they  are  very  anxious  to 
find  out.  Naturally  they  think  it  points  to  the  con- 
clusion that  there  is  a  woman  in  the  case." 

"Of  course  they  would  think  that,"  she  said. 

"Do  you  think  any  one  in  Ashlingsea  could  identify 
it  as  yours  ?"  he  asked.  "Have  you  had  it  any  length 
of  time?" 

"It  was  not  mine,"  she  declared.  "I  did  not  lose  a 
comb." 

"Not  yours?"  he  exclaimed  in  astonishment. 

"I  am  trying  to  think  to  whom  it  belonged,"  she  said 
meditatively.  "As  far  as  I  know,  lady  visitors  at  Cliff 
Farm  were  few.  And  yet  it  could  not  be  Mrs.  Bond — 
the  woman  who  went  there  to  tidy  up  the  place  once 
a  week — you  say  it  was  gold  mounted  ?" 

"Rather  an  expensive  looking  comb,  I  thought,"  said 
the  young  man. 

"Yes ;  it  looks  as  if  there  was  a  woman  in  the  case." 

The  arrival  of  the  waitress  with  the  tea-things 
brought  about  a  lengthy  pause  in  the  conversation. 

To  Marsland  it  looked  as  if  there  must  be  two 
women  in  the  case  if  the  comb  did  not  belong  to  Miss 
Maynard.  But  he  was  not  altogether  satisfied  with 
her  statement  that  it  was  not  hers.  It  is  difficult  for  a 
young  man  of  impressionable  age  to  regard  a  good- 
looking  girl  as  untruthful,  but  Marsland  recalled  other 
things  which  indicated  that  she  was  not  averse  to  seek- 
ing refuge  in  false  statements.  He  remembered  her 
greeting  when  he  had  knocked  at  the  farm-house  on  the 
night  of  the  storm.  "Where  have  you  been  ?"  was 
the  question  she  put  to  him,  and  then  she  had  added, 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      117 

"I  have  been  wondering  what  could  have  happened  to 
you." 

They  were  not  questions  which  might  reasonably  be 
directed  to  a  chance  visitor  on  such  a  night,  and  he  re- 
membered that  there  had  been  a  note  of  impatience 
in  her  voice.  This  impatience  harmonized  with  the 
start  of  surprise  which  she  gave  when  he  spoke  to  her. 
Obviously  she  had  been  expecting  some  one  and  had 
mistaken  his  knock  for  the  arrival  of  the  man  for 
whom  she  had  been  waiting.  And  yet  her  subsequent 
story  to  Marsland  in  explanation  of  her  presence  at 
the  farm  was  that  she  had  been  overtaken  by  the  storm 
and  had  sought  shelter  there.  She  had  made  no  ref- 
erence to  the  man  whom  she  had  expected  to  see  when 
she  opened  the  door  in  response  to  Marsland's  knock. 
When  directly  questioned  on  the  matter  she  had  de- 
clared that  it  was  Frank  Lumsden  she  had  expected 
to  see. 

"Whom  do  the  police  suspect  ?"  she  asked,  after  the 
waitress  had  departed. 

"I  do  not  think  they  suspect  any  one  in  particular 
just  yet,"  he  replied. 

"Have  they  no  clue  of  any  kind?" 

"They  have  several  clues  of  a  kind.  They  have  dis- 
covered some  footprints  outside  the  window  of  the 
room  in  which  we  sat.  The  window  itself  has  been 
forced.  And  that  reminds  me  of  something  else  I 
wanted  to  tell  you.  The  police  have  naturally  ques- 
tioned me  in  order  to  obtain  any  light  I  can  throw  on 
the  mystery.  One  of  the  first  things  they  asked  me 
was  how  I  got  into  the  house.  I  told  them  that  the 
door  was  open,  and  that  as  no  one  came  when  I 


n8   THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

knocked  I  walked  in  and  sat  down.  I  think  that  was 
what  you  told  me  you  did." 

"Yes,"  she  replied.     "The  door  was  open." 

"You  see,  I  forgot  to  fortify  myself  with  a  ready 
made  story  which  would  fit  all  these  questions.  The 
theory  of  the  police  at  present  is  that  the  murderer 
was  in  the  house  all  the  time  we  were  there." 

"Oh !"  she  exclaimed.  It  was  obvious  that  she  was 
deeply  interested  in  that  theory.  "Because  of  the  crash 
we  heard?" 

"Partly  because  of  that,  and  partly  because  that 
strange  looking  document  we  found  on  the  stairs  has 
disappeared.  It  was  gone  when  I  went  back  to  the 
house  with  the  police  sergeant.  Their  theory  is  that 
the  murderer  was  in  the  house  when  I  arrived — that 
is,  when  you  arrived — but  of  course  they  didn't  know 
about  your  being  there.  As  they  reconstruct  the  trag- 
edy, the  murderer  was  making  his  way  downstairs  with 
the  plan  in  his  hand  just  as  I — meaning  you — arrived 
at  the  door.  In  his  alarm  he  dropped  the  plan  and 
retreated  upstairs.  The  crash  we  heard  was  made  by 
him  knocking  down  a  picture  that  hung  on  the  wall 
near  the  top  of  the  staircase — that  is  on  the  second 
floor.  After  we  left  the  house  he  came  down,  found 
the  plan  in  the  sitting-room  and  made  off  with  it." 

"To  think  of  his  being  in  the  house  all  the  time  I 
was  there  alone!"  she  said.  "It  makes  me  shudder 
even  now." 

"The  police  are  under  the  impression  that  they  will 
not  have  much  difficulty  in  getting  hold  of  him,  but 
on  the  other  hand  Mr.  Crewe  thinks  there  are  some 
puzzling  mysterious  features  which  the  police  have 
overlooked." 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      119 

"Mr.  Crewe !"  she  exclaimed.  "Do  you  mean  the 
famous  London  detective?" 

"Yes." 

"How  does  he  come  into  it?" 

"My  uncle,  Sir  George  Granville,  is  responsible  for 
that.  Perhaps  you  know  him?" 

"I  know  him  by  sight,"  she  said. 

"I  have  been  staying  with  him,"  continued  the  young 
man.  "And  when  I  rang  him  up  from  the  police  sta- 
tion at  Ashlingsea,  after  leaving  you,  he  was  greatly 
excited  about  my  discovery.  He  knows  Crewe  very 
well — they  used  to  be  interested  in  chess,  and  that 
brought  them  together.  Crewe  had  come  down  to 
Staveley  for  the  week-end  as  my  uncle's  guest,  and 
they  were  sitting  up  for  me  when  I  telephoned  from 
Ashlingsea." 

"Was  that  Mr.  Crewe  who  was  with  you  this  morn- 
ing?" she  asked. 

"Yes.     Rather  a  fine  looking  man,  don't  you  think  ?" 

She  had  other  things  to  think  of  than  the  appeal  of 
Mr.  Crewe's  appearance  to  her  feminine  judgment. 

"What  did  he  want  at  Grange's  shop?"  she  asked. 

It  occurred  to  him  that  he  would  like  to  ask  that 
question  concerning  her  own  visit  there.  What  he 
said  was : 

"He  wanted  to  make  some  inquiries  there." 

"Inquiries?"  She  looked  at  him  steadily,  but  as 
he  did  not  offer  further  information  she  had  to  put 
her  anxiety  into  words.  "About  this  comb?" 

"As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  am  not  fully  in  his  con- 
fidence," said  Marsland  with  a  constrained  smile. 
"Crewe  is  a  man  who  keeps  his  own  counsel.  He  has 
to,  in  his  line  of  business." 


120      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

She  was  not  quite  sure  that  a  rebuke  was  contained 
in  this  reply,  but  she  gave  herself  the  benefit  of  the 
doubt. 

"Does  Mr.  Crewe  know  that  I  was  at  Cliff  Farm 
that  night?"  she  asked. 

"No.  I  thought  I  made  my  promise  on  that  point 
quite  definite." 

"You  did."  was  her  candid  reply  to  his  undoubted 
rebuke.  "But  I  will  release  you  from  that  promise 
if  you  think  you  ought  to  tell  him." 

"I  am  under  no  obligation  to  tell  him  anything 
more  than  I  have  told  the  police." 

"I  thought  that  perhaps  the  fact  that  your  uncle 
has  brought  Mr.  Crewe  into  the  case  might  make  a 
difference." 

As  he  made  no  reply  to  that  suggestion  she  branched 
off  to  something  else  that  was  in  her  mind : 

"Do  you  think  Mr.  Crewe  is  as  clever  as  people 
say  he  is?" 

"There  is  no  doubt  that  he  is  a  very  remarkable 
man.  I  have  already  had  proof  of  his  wonderfully 
quick  observation." 

"Then  I  suppose  there  is  no  doubt  that  he  will  find 
out  who  killed  Frank  Lumsden?" 

He  looked  at  her  steadily  as  he  replied: 

"His  appearance  in  the  case  lessens  the  guilty  per- 
son's chance  of  escape.  But  Mr.  Crewe  does  not 
claim  to  solve  every  mystery  which  is  presented  to 
him." 

"Do  you  think  he  will  solve  this  one?"  she  asked. 

He  knew  that  she  had  a  secret  reason  for  hoping 
that  some  aspect  of  it  would  prove  insoluble,  but 
this  knowledge  did  not  influence  his  reply. 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      121 

"It  may  baffle  him,"  he  replied  meditatively.  "But 
I  have  been  so  deeply  impressed  with  the  keenness 
of  his  observations  and  his  methods  of  deduction  that 
I  feel  sure  he  will  get  very  near  to  the  truth." 


CHAPTER  XI 

CREWE  walked  to  the  street  known  as  Whitethorn 
Gardens,  which  he  learned  was  situated  in  the  older 
portion  of  the  town,  off  the  less  fashionable  end  of 
the  front.  It  was  a  narrow  street,  steep  of  ascent,  full 
of  old  stone  houses  of  deserted  appearance,  which 
faced  cobbled  footways  from  behind  prim  grass-plots. 
It  looked  like  a  place  which  had  seen  better  days 
and  was  proud  in  its  poverty,  for  very  few  "Apart- 
ments" cards  were  displayed  in  the  old-fashioned  bay 
windows.  No.  41  was  half-way  up  the  street  on  the 
right-hand  side,  and  was  distinguished  from  its  fel- 
lows by  a  magnolia  in  the  centre  of  the  grass-plot, 
and  two  parallel  close-clipped  ivy  screens  which  had 
been  trained  to  grow  in  panel  fashion  on  both  sides  of 
the  front  door. 

Crewe  walked  up  the  gravel  path  and  rang  the 
bell.  After  a  considerable  pause,  he  rang  again.  His 
second  ring  brought  a  grim-faced  servant  to  the  door, 
who,  when  he  asked  if  her  mistress  was  in,  opened 
the  door  and  invited  him  to  enter.  She  took  him 
into  a  small  sitting-room,  and  vanished  with  a  gruff 
intimation  that  she  would  tell  Mrs.  Penfield. 

Five  minutes  elapsed  before  a  woman  entered  the 
room  noiselessly  and  stood  before  him.  She  was 
a  woman  of  attractive  appearance,  about  thirty,  with 
clear  grey  eyes  and  well  kept  brown  hair,  and  her 

122 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      123 

graceful  and  ladylike  demeanour  suggested  that  she 
was  of  superior  class  to  the  type  of  womanhood  usu- 
ally associated  with  seaside  apartment  houses. 

"I  understand  that  you  are  looking  for  apartments  ?" 
she  said  in  a  pleasant  voice. 

"No,"  said  Crewe.    "I  came  to  see  Mr.  Brett." 

"He  is  not  in,"  was  the  reply.  Her  smile  had  gone 
and  her  voice  had  lost  its  ingratiating  tone.  She 
looked  at  Crewe  steadily. 

"When  do  you  expect  him  in?" 

"He  is  away." 

"When  do  you  expect  him  back?" 

"I  cannot  say  definitely  when  he  will  be  back." 

"Do  you  expect  him  in  the  course  of  the  next  few 
days?" 

"He  may  come  any  time."  Her  suspicions  were 
fully  aroused,  and  with  the  object  of  dismissing  him 
and  also  extracting  some  information  from  him  she 
said,  "And  who  shall  I  tell  him  called?" 

Crewe  handed  her  a  card  and  watched  her  as  she 
read  the  name. 

"Mr.  Crewe!"  she  exclaimed  with  a  note  of  sur- 
prise and  alarm  in  her  voice.  "Not  Mr.  Crewe  of — of 
London?" 

"I  live  in  London,"  he  replied. 

"Not  Mr.  Crewe,  the — famous  detective?" 

"That  is  my  occupation,"  was  the  modest  rejoinder. 

"Oh,  I  am  pleased  to  see  you,"  was  her  unexpected 
exclamation  She  smiled  as  she  looked  him  over.  He 
was  much  younger  and  much  better-looking  than  the 
Mr.  Crewe  of  her  imagination,  and  these  things  les- 
sened her  fear  of  him.  "Inspector  Murchison  came 
down  to  >ee  Mr.  Brett  on  Saturday  last,  but  he  had 


124      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

gone  away  two  days  before,"  she  said.  "I  promised 
the  inspector  I  would  send  him  word  when  Mr.  Brett 
returned."  She  seemed  to  have  changed  completely 
since  learning  Crewe's  name,  and  to  be  anxious  to 
supply  information. 

"I  have  seen  Inspector  Murchison,"  he  said. 

"If  I  knew  Mr.  Brett's  present  address  I  would 
telegraph  to  him,"  she  continued.  "I  don't  think  he 
can  have  heard  of  the  murder  of  poor  Mr.  Lumsden, 
or  he  would  have  come  back  at  once." 

"I  have  no  doubt  of  that,"  said  Crewe. 

"As  of  course  you  know,  from  the  inspector,  Mr. 
Brett  is  engaged  from  time  to  time  on  very  important 
business  of  a  confidential  nature  for  the  Government. 
He  has  often  been  away  for  three  weeks  at  a  time 
without  sending  me  as  much  as  a  postcard." 

"On  what  day  did  he  go  away?"  asked  Crewe. 

"On  Thursday  last — Thursday  morning.  It  was  on 
Friday  night  that  Mr.  Lumsden  was  killed,  was  it 
not?" 

"It  was  on  Friday  night  that  his  body  was  dis- 
covered," said  Crewe. 

"A  dreadful  crime,"  she  continued. 

"Did  Mr.  Brett  leave  by  train?"  he  asked. 

"Yes — that  is,  as  far  as  I  know.  Oh,  of  course 
he  must  have  gone  by  train.  He  only  took  a  light  suit- 
case with  him,  so  I  do  not  expect  he  will  be  away 
very  long." 

There  was  a  pause  during  which  she  did  some 
earnest  thinking. 

"Perhaps  you  would  like  to  look  at  Mr.  Brett's 
rooms  ?" 

"If  it  is  not  too  much  trouble."    He  was  suspicious 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      125 

of  the  change  in  her  attitude  after  learning  his  name. 

She  led  the  way  upstairs  and  opened  a  door  on  the 
first  landing. 

"This  is  his  sitting-room,"  she  said. 

It  was  a  large,  comfortably  furnished  room,  with 
a  window  looking  onto  the  front  garden.  Crewe's 
keen  eye  took  in  the  details  of  the  interior.  The  man- 
ner in  which  the  room  had  been  left  suggested  that 
its  owner  intended  to  return.  Several  pipes  and  a  box 
of  cigars,  nearly  full,  stood  on  a  table  near  the  fire- 
place. Beside  them  was  a  folded  newspaper,  and  on 
top  of  it  was  a  novel. 

An  arm-chair  was  drawn  up  close  to  the  fire-place, 
and  beside  it  was  a  pair  of  slippers.  Near  the  window 
was  another  table,  on  which  there  was  an  open  writ- 
ing-desk containing  notepaper,  envelopes  and  pens. 
The  room  looked  neat  and  tidy,  as  if  for  an  occupant 
of  regular  habits  who  liked  his  comfort  to  be  studied. 
It  was  this  impression  which  gave  Crewe  the  clue  to 
the  landlady's  invitation  to  inspect  the  apartments.  If 
Brett  had  anything  to  hide  he  could  depend  on  the 
loyal  support  of  Mrs.  Penfield. 

Among  the  photographs  which  decorated  the  room, 
the  one  that  claimed  Crewe's  attention  was  that  which 
occupied  the  place  of  honour  in  the  centre  of  the 
mantelpiece.  It  was  enclosed  in  a  silver  frame.  He 
took  it  in  his  hands  to  examine  it  closely,  and  glancing 
at  Mrs.  Penfield  as  he  lifted  it  down  he  saw  her  give 
a  slight  disdainful  toss  of  her  head. 

"A  very  pretty  girl,"  said  Crewe,  looking  critically 
at  the  photograph. 

"It  is  very  flattering,"  was  the  cold  comment  of  his 
companion. 


126      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

"But  even  allowing  for  that" — he  left  the  sentence 
unfinished,  as  if  unable  to  find  words  for  his  admira- 
tion of  the  subject  of  the  photograph.  His  real 
interest  in  the  photograph  was  that  he  had  recently 
seen  the  sitter,  and  was  astonished  to  find  that  she 
had  some  connection  with  Brett.  "Do  you  know 
her?" 

"I  have  seen  her.  She  came  here  several  times  to 
see  Mr.  Brett.  She  came  to-day  about  an  hour  ago." 

"She  didn't  know  that  Mr.  Brett  had  gone  away?" 

It  occurred  to  Mrs.  Penfield  that  she  had  made  a 
mistake  in  volunteering  this  information — a  mistake 
due  to  the  feminine  desire  to  convey  the  impression 
that  the  subject  of  the  photograph  was  in  the  habit 
of  running  after  Mr.  Brett. 

"She  wanted  to  know  when  he  would  be  back,"  she 
answered  hastily. 

"What  is  her  name?"  asked  Crewe. 

"Miss  Maynard." 

"Is  she  Mr.  Brett's  fiancee?" 

"I  have  heard  some  people  say  that  they  are  en- 
gaged, but  I  never  heard  Mr.  Brett  say  so.  At  any 
rate,  she  doesn't  wear  an  engagement  ring." 

"That  seems  to  settle  it,"  said  Crewe,  who  knew 
the  value  of  sympathy  in  a  jealous  nature.  "And  this 
photograph,  I  presume,  is  one  of  Mr.  Brett,"  he  added, 
pointing  to  a  photograph  of  a  young  man  which  stood 
at  the  other  end  of  the  mantelpiece. 

Mrs.  Penfield  nodded  without  speaking. 

"Would  you  like  to  look  at  Mr.  Brett's  bedroom?" 
she  asked  after  a  pause. 

"I  may  as  well,  now  that  I  am  here." 

She  led  the  way  to  the  door  of  another  room  and 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      127 

Crewe  entered  it.  Here,  again,  there  were  many  in- 
dications that  the  occupant  of  the  room  did  not  ex- 
-  pect  to  be  absent  for  any  great  length  of  time.  It  was 
smaller  than  the  sitting-room,  but  it  looked  very  cheer- 
ful and  cosy.  Behind  the  door  a  dressing-gown 
was  hanging. 

Crewe's  rapid  inspection  of  the  room  showed  him 
that  there  was  no  shaving  tackle  visible,  and  that 
there  were  no  hair-brushes  or  clothes-brushes  on  the 
dressing-table.  It  was  to  be  assumed  from  these  facts 
that  Mr.  Brett  had  taken  his  brushes  and  shaving 
things  with  him.  As  far  as  appearances  went,  his 
departure  had  not  been  hurried. 

"A  very  nice  set  of  rooms,"  said  Crewe.  "I  think 
you  said  you  promised  to  let  Inspector  Murchison 
know  when  Mr.  Brett  returns.  I  shall  get  the  in- 
spector to  ring  me  up  when  he  hears  from  you.  There 
are  one  or  two  questions  I  should  like  to  ask  Mr. 
Brett.  When  he  comes  back,  will  you  please  tell  him 
I  called?" 

Crewe's  next  act  was  to  get  his  car  and  visit  the 
garage  kept  by  Gosford  in  High  Street.  Inside  the 
building  he  saw  the  proprietor  standing  by  a  large 
grey  motor-car  in  the  centre  of  the  garage,  watching 
a  workman  in  blue  overalls  who  was  doing  something 
to  one  of  the  wheels. 

"Not  much  the  worse,"  said  Crewe,  nodding  his 
head  in  the  direction  of  the  grey  car,  and  addressing 
himself  to  the  proprietor  of  the  garage. 

Gosford,  a  short  stout  man,  looked  hard  at  him  as 
he  approached.  He  was  clean-shaven,  and  his  puffed- 
cut  cheeks  made  his  large  face  look  like  a  ball. 

Gosford  again  looked  at  Crewe  out  of   his  little 


128      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

black  eyes,  but  said  nothing.  His  business  caution 
acted  as  a  curb  on  his  natural  geniality,  for  he  had 
learnt  by  experience  of  the  folly  of  giving  informa- 
tion to  strangers  until  he  knew  what  business  brought 
them  into  the  garage. 

"Not  much  the  worse  for  its  accident,"  said  Crewe. 
"You  were  not  long  in  getting  it  into  repair." 

The  proprietor's  glance  wandered  backwards  and 
forwards  from  the  car  to  his  visitor. 

"As  good  as  ever,"  he  said,  "Do  you  want  to  buy 
it?" 

"No,"  said  Crewe.  "I  have  one  already."  He 
nodded  in  the  direction  of  his  car  outside. 

"She's  a  beauty,"  said  Gosford.  "But  those  Bod- 
esly  touring  cars  run  into  a  lot  of  money.  You  paid 
a  big  price  for  her,  I'll  be  bound." 

"Oh,  yes.  You  motor-car  people  are  never  rea- 
sonable— manufacturers,  garage  proprietors,  repairers, 
you  are  all  alike." 

"No,  no,  sir,  we  are  very  reasonable  here.  That 
is  what  I  pride  myself  on." 

"In  that  case  I'll  know  where  to  bring  my  repairs. 
But  to-day  all  I  want  is  some  petrol.  That  is  what 
I  came  for,  but  when  I  saw  this  car  I  thought  I'd 
'iike  to  see  what  sort  of  job  you  had  made  of  it.  The 
last  time  I  saw  it  was  when  it  was  lying  in  the  ditch 
about  six  miles  from  here  on  the  road  to  Ashlingsea." 

"Oh,  you  saw  her  there  ?"  said  Mr.  Gosford  genially. 
"But  there  wasn't  much  the  matter  with  her,  beyond 
a  bent  axle." 

"I  hope  that  is  what  you  told  the  gentleman  who 
left  it  there— Mr. ?" 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      129 

"Mr.  Brett,"  said  Mr.  Gosford,  coming  to  the  relief 
of  his  visitor's  obvious  effort  to  recall  a  name. 

"Ah,  yes ;  Mr.  Brett,"  said  Crewe.  "Was  it  Thurs- 
day or  Friday  that  I  met  him  on  the  Ashlingsea  road 
in  this  car?" 

"Friday,  sir.  This  car  wasn't  out  on  Thursday. 
Friday  was  the  night  of  the  big  storm.  She  was  out 
in  it  all  night.  I  didn't  know  where  she  was  until 
Mr.  Brett  rang  me  up  on  Saturday  morning." 

"So  he  was  in  Staveley  on  Saturday  morning?" 

"No,  no,  sir.  He  said  he  was  speaking  from 
Lewes.  He  must  have  caught  an  early  train  out  from 
Staveley  or  Ashlingsea  before  we  were  open.  That 
is  why  he  didn't  ring  up  before." 

Crewe,  on  leaving  the  garage,  drove  through  the 
western  outskirts  of  the  town,  and  kept  on  till  he 
passed  the  sand  dunes,  and  the  cliff  road  stretched 
to  Ashlingsea  like  a  strip  of  white  ribbon  between  the 
green  downs  and  grey  sea.  About  a  mile  past  the 
sand  dunes  he  saw  a  small  stone  cottage  with  a 
thatched  roof,  standing  back  on  the  downs  about  fifty 
yards  from  the  road. 

Crewe  stopped  his  car,  and  walked  up  the  slope  to 
the  little  cottage.  The  gate  was  open,  and  he  walked 
through  the  tiny  garden,  which  was  crowded  with 
sweet-scented  wallflowers  and  late  roses,  and  knocked 
at  the  door. 

His  knock  brought  a  woman  to  the  door — an  infirm 
and  bent  old  woman,  with  scattered  grey  locks  falling 
over  her  withered  face.  She  peered  up  at  him  with 
rheumy  eyes. 

Crewe   looked  at  the   old  woman  in   some  doubt 

whether  she  was  not  past  answering  any  questions. 

K 


I3o      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

Before  he  could  put  the  point  to  the  proof  she  solved 
it  for  him  by  turning  her  head  and  crying  in  a  shrill 
cracked  voice : 

"Harry,  lad,  come  here  and  see  to  the  gentleman." 

A  man  approached  from  the  back  in  reply  to  the 
call.  He  was  short  and  stout,  and  his  perspiring  face 
and  bare  arms  showed  that  he  had  been  hard  at 
work.  He  looked  at  Crewe,  made  a  movement  of  his 
knuckle  towards  his  forehead,  and  waited  for  him  to 
speak. 

"I  am  trying  to  get  in  touch  with  a  friend  of  mine 
who  I  believe  motored  along  this  road  on  Friday  last," 
said  Crewe.  "It  was  on  Friday  night  that  we  had 
the  big  storm.  He  must  have  driven  along  here  on 
Friday  afternoon;  he  was  driving  a  big  grey  car. 
Did  you  see  him?" 

"Friday  afternoon?"  the  man  repeated.  "I'm  just 
trying  to  get  my  bearings  a  bit.  Yes,  Friday  was  the 
night  we  had  the  storm,  and  Friday  was  the  day  I  seen 
this  gentleman  I'm  thinking  of." 

"In  a  grey  car?"  suggested  Crewe. 

"In  a  grey  car,  as  you  say,  sir.  There  ain't  so 
many  cars  pass  along  this  road  this  time  of  year." 

"Then  you  saw  a  grey  car  go  past  in  the  direction 
of  Ashlingsea  on  Friday  afternoon?"  said  Crewe.  He 
put  a  hand  in  his  trousers  pocket  and  jingled  the  silver 
there. 

"I  did,"  exclaimed  the  other,  with  the  positiveness 
of  a  man  who  had  awakened  to  the  fact  that  he  pos- 
sessed valuable  information  for  which  he  was  to  be 
paid.  "I  was  standing  here  at  this  very  door  after  sell- 
ing two  bushels  of  apples  to  Mr.  Hope,  and  was  just 
thinking  about  going  back  to  dig  some  more  taters, 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      131 

when  I  happened  to  hear  a  motor-car  coming  along.  It 
was  the  grey  car,  sure  enough,  sir.  No  doubt  about 
that." 

"And  was  there  anyone  with  my  friend— or  was  he 
alone  in  the  car?" 

This  was  a  puzzling  question,  because  it  contained 
no  indication  of  the  answer  wanted. 

"I  can't  say  I  noticed  anybody  at  the  time,  cos  I 
was  thinking  more  about  my  taters — it's  a  bit  late  to 
be  getting  up  taters,  as  you  know,  sir.  I'd  left  'em 
over  late  through  having  so  much  thatching  to  do, 
there  being  so  few  about  as  can  thatch  now  that  the 
war  is  on,  and  not  many  at  the  best  o'  times — thatch- 
ing being  a  job  as  takes  time  to  learn.  My  fathef 
he  was  best  thatcher  they  ever  did  have  hereabouts, 
and  it  was  him  taught  me." 

"And  there  was  no  one  but  my  friend  in  the  car?" 

"I  couldn't  say  that  I  did  see  any  one,  my  mind 
being  more  on  taters,  but,  mind  you,  sir,  there  might 
have  been.  Your  friend  he  went  past  so  quickly  I 
didn't  rightly  see  into  the  car — not  from  here.  It  ain't 
reasonable  to  expect  it,  is  it,  sir?" 

"No,  of  course  not,"  said  Crewe.  "I'm  very  much 
obliged  to  you."  He  produced  half  a  crown  and 
handed  it  to  the  man. 

"Thank  you,  sir."  The  unexpected  amount  of  his 
reward  had  a  stimulating  effect.  "I'll  tell  you  a  strange 
thing  about  your  friend,  sir,  now  that  I've  had  time 
to  think  about  it.  I  hadn't  dug  moren  a  row,  or  perhaps 
a  row  and  a  half  of  my  taters,  when  I  seen  him  coming 
back  again." 

"Coming  back  again?"  exclaimed  Crewe.  "Surely 
not." 


i32      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

"Yes,  sir;  the  same  grey  car." 

"Driving  back  in  the  direction  of  Staveley?" 

"Driving  back  along  the  road  he'd  come." 

"And  this  would  be  less  than  an  hour  after  you  saw 
him  pass  the  first  time  ?" 

"Not  more'n  half-hour.  I  reckon  it  don't  take  me 
full  twenty  minutes  to  dig  a  row  o'  taters." 

"But  the  grey  car  I  mean  didn't  go  back  past  here 
to  Staveley."  said  Crewe.  "It  was  wrecked  on  Fri- 
day night  about  four  miles  from  here  in  the  direction 
of  Ashlingsea." 

"That's  right,"  exclaimed  the  man,  with  childish 
delight.  "Didn't  I  see  it  go  past  here  noon  Saturday — 
another  car  drawing  it  because  it  wouldn't  work.  I 
said  to  myself,  something's  gone  wrong  with  it." 

"But,  according  to  your  story,  it  was  driven  back 
to  Staveley  that  afternoon.  The  car  you  saw  going 
back  to  Staveley  could  not  have  been  the  car  that  was 
wrecked  on  Friday,  unless  the  driver  turned  round 
again  and  went  back  towards  Ashlingsea — but  that 
seems  impossible." 

"That's  what  he  did,  sir.  That's  what  I  was  going 
to  tell  you,  only  I  hadn't  come  to  it.  What  I  said 
was,  I  hadn't  dug  moren  a  row  and  half  of  taters  after 
Dinner  afore  I  see  this  car  coming  back  Staveley  way, 
and  when  I'd  got  to  end  of  second  row  I  happened 
to  look  up  the  road  and  there  was  this  car  coming  back 
again.  I  didn't  know  what  to  think — that  is,  at  first.  I 
stood  there  with  the  fork  in  my  hand  thinking  and 
thinking  and  saying  to  myself  I'd  not  give  it  up — I'm  a 
rare  one,  sir,  when  I  make  up  my  mind.  I  don't  won- 
der it's  puzzled  you,  sir,  just  as  it  puzzled  me.  What 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      133 

has  he  been  driving  up  and  down  for — backwards 
and  forwards?  That's  how  it  puzzled  me.  Then  it 
came  to  me  quite  sudden  like — he'd  lost  something  and 
had  drove  back  along  the  road  until  he  found  it" 


CHAPTER  XII 

IT  was  not  Elsie  Maynard's  first  visit  to  London, 
but  her  visits  had  been  so  few  that  London  had  pre- 
sented itself  to  her  as  a  vast  labyrinth  of  streets,  shops 
and  houses.  The  prevailing  impression  of  all  pre- 
vious visits  was  that,  since  it  was  a  simple  matter  to 
get  lost  involuntarily  in  the  labyrinth,  it  would  be 
a  simple  matter  for  any  one  to  disappear  voluntarily 
and  remain  hidden  from  search.  But  on  this  occasion, 
when  there  was  need  for  secrecy  as  to  her  visit  and 
its  object,  she  fancied  the  vast  city  to  be  full  of  prying 
eyes. 

It  seemed  improbable  that  among  the  thousands  of 
people  she  met  in  the  streets  there  would  not  be  some 
one  who  knew  her.  There  might  be  some  one  watch- 
ing her — some  one  who  had  received  a  telephone  mes- 
sage regarding  her  journey  by  train  from  Ashlingsea. 
To  disappear  from  some  one  who  was  watching  her 
seemed  to  be  impossible,  for  among  the  throng  of 
people  it  was  impossible  to  single  out  the  watcher. 

From  Victoria  Station  she  took  a  tube  ticket  to 
Earl's  Court,  so  as  to  give  the  impression  to  any  one 
who  was  following  her  that  her  destination  was  in  the 
west  of  London.  She  inspected  closely  all  the  people 
who  followed  her  into  the  carriage.  She  alighted  at 
South  Kensington  and  changed  to  the  Piccadilly 
tube.  She  got  out  at  Holborn  and  then  took  a 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      135 

bus  to  Aldgate.  She  walked  along  to  the  junction 
of  Whitechapel  Road  and  Commercial  Road,  where 
she  took  a  tram.  After  a  short  journey  by  tram  along 
Commercial  Road  she  got  out  and  walked  along  the 
south  side  of  the  street,  keeping  a  look  out  for  the 
names  of  the  side  streets. 

When  she  reached  Quilter  Street  she  turned  down 
it,  and  eventually  stopped  at  the  door  of  No.  23.  It 
was  a  short  street  with  a  monotonous  row  of  houses 
on  each  side.  At  one  side  of  the  corner  where  it 
joined  Commercial  Road  was  a  steam  laundry,  and 
at  the  other  side  a  grocer's  which  was  also  a  post  office. 
The  faded  wrappings  of  the  tinned  goods  which  had 
been  displayed  for  many  months  in  the  windows  were 
indicative  of  the  comparative  poverty  of  the  locality. 
In  the  ground-floor  windows  of  most  of  the  houses 
were  cardboard  notices  showing  that  tailoring  was  the 
craft  by  which  the  inhabitants  earned  their  bread.  It 
was  here  that  a  great  deal  of  the  work  sent  out  by 
tailors'  shops  in  the  City  was  done,  and  the  placards 
in  the  windows  proclaimed  a  desire  for  work  from 
chance  customers  whose  clothes  needed  repairs  and 
pressing. 

There  were  dirty  ragged  children  playing  in  the 
gutters,  and  dirty  slatternly  women,  with  black 
shawls  over  their  heads  and  shoulders  and  jugs  in 
their  hands,  were  to  be  seen  hurrying  along  the  pave- 
ment for  milk  and  beer.  Although  Miss  Maynard 
had  taken  care  not  to  dress  herself  elaborately  for 
her  journey  to  London,  she  was  aware  that  her  ap- 
pearance before  the  door  of  No.  23  was  attracting  some 
attention  among  the  women  standing  at  their  doors 
and  gossiping  across  area  railings.  When  the  door 


136  "   THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

was  opened  by  a  girl  in  her  early  teens  who  had  her 
sleeves  rolled  up  and  was  wearing  a  piece  of  sacking 
as  an  apron,  Miss  Maynard  entered  hurriedly  and 
closed  the  door  after  her. 

"Does  Mr.  Miller  live  here?"  she  asked. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  girl. 

"Is  he  in  now?" 

"Yes,  he  told  me  was  expecting  a  lady  to  call.  Are 
you  her?" 

"Yes." 

"First  floor — front,"  said  the  girl,  jerking  a  dirty 
thumb  in  the  direction  of  the  stairs  as  an  indication 
to  her  visitor  that  she  could  find  her  way  up  unaided. 

But  before  she  had  reached  the  top  of  the  stairs 
the  door  of  the  front  room  on  the  first  floor  was 
opened,  and  the  man  she  had  come  to  see  appeared 
on  the  stairs  to  welcome  her.  He  clasped  her  hands 
eagerly  and  led  her  to  his  room,  closing  the  door 
carefully  behind  him.  For  a  moment  he  hesitated 
and  then  placed  his  arms  round  her.  Her  head  fell 
back  on  his  shoulder  and  he  pressed  his  lips  to  hers 
in  a  long  lingering  kiss. 

Arnold  Brett  was  a  young  man  of  spare  build  whose 
military  training  had  taught  him  to  keep  his  shoulders 
well  back.  He  had  a  slight  black  moustache,  and  his 
hair,  which  was  carefully  brushed  down  on  his  head, 
was  raven  black  in  colour.  His  aquiline  nose  seemed 
to  emphasize  the  sharpness  of  his  features ;  the  glance 
from  his  dark  eyes  was  restless  and  crafty. 

"Darling,  I  knew  you  would  come,"  he  said.  He 
released  her,  but  only  for  the  purpose  of  taking  her 
again  in  his  arms  and  kissing  her. 

"But  why  are  you  here  ?"  she  asked,  giving  a  glance 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      137 

at  the  impoverished  furniture — the  narrow  bed  with 
its  faded  counterpane,  the  cheap  chest  of  drawers, 
the  dressing-table  with  a  cracked  mirror,  the  dirty 
window  curtains  and  the  single  wooden  chair. 

"Before  God,  I  swear  I  had  nothing  to  do  with  it, 
Elsie,"  he  exclaimed  passionately. 

It  was  a  relief  to  hear  him  declare  his  innocence. 
Even  if  he  had  spoken  without  emphasis  she  would 
not  have  doubted  his  word.  It  was  because  her  belief 
in  his  innocence  deepened  the  mystery  of  his  reason 
for  hiding  that  she  repeated: 

"But  why  are  you  here?" 

"Do  you  believe  me?"  he  asked.  Between  lovers 
faith  counts  for  much  more  than  reason. 

"Of  course  I  do." 

"I  knew  you  would,"  he  said.  "It  is  because  I 
know  you  were  true  that  I  asked  you  to  come.  I  am 
beginning  to  think  that  perhaps  I  made  a  great  mis- 
take in  running  away.  But  I  was  unnerved  by  the 
accident.  I  was  thrown  out  of  the  car  and  I  must 
have  been  unconscious  in  the  road  for  more  than  an 
hour.  And,  recalling  how  poor  Frank  had  met  his 
death,  it  seemed  to  me  that  there  was  a  diabolical 
scheme  on  foot  to  murder  me  as  well.  Perhaps  I 
was  wrong.  Tell  me  everything.  Do  the  police  sus- 
pect me?  Have  they  a  warrant  out  for  me?  Did 
you  go  to  the  farm  that  night  ?  I  have  sent  out  for  a 
newspaper  each  day,  but  the  London  newspapers  have 
said  very  little  about  the  murder.  All  I  have  seen  is 
a  couple  of  small  paragraphs." 

She  was  more  immediately  concerned  in  the  dis- 
covery that  he  had  been  thrown  out  of  a  motor-car 
and  injured  than  in  his  thirst  for  information  about 


138      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

the  murder  at  Cliff  Farm.  She  was  solicitous  as  to 
the  extent  of  the  injury  he  had  suffered,  the  length 
of  time  he  had  been  unconscious,  and  his  movements 
after  he  came  to  his  senses  on  the  lonely  road.  Not 
only  were  her  feminine  sympathies  stirred  by  the 
thought  of  the  sufferings  of  the  man  she  loved,  but 
by  the  fear  that  the  accident  must  have  affected  his 
mind  temporarily  and  prompted  him  to  hide  himself. 

He  was  too  impatient  for  her  news  to  spare  time 
for  more  than  a  vague  disconnected  account  of  the 
accident.  He  assured  her  that  he  was  all  right  again, 
except  for  a  cut  on  the  head  which  he  showed  her. 
It  was  on  her  news  more  than  on  anything  else  that 
the  question  of  his  return  to  Staveley  depended. 

She  told  him  in  response  to  his  questions  that  the 
murder  had  created  a  sensation.  Every  one  was  talk- 
ing about  it.  The  Staveley  Courier  had  published  a 
two  column  account  of  the  tragedy  with  details  about 
the  victim  and  the  eccentricities  of  his  grandfather  in 
later  years.  Stress  was  laid,  in  the  newspaper  account 
of  the  story,  on  the  rumour  that  old  Joseph  Lumsden 
had  buried  his  money  after  the  war  broke  out,  and 
on  the  disappointment  of  the  legatees  whose  legacies 
could  not  be  paid  at  his  death  because  the  money 
could  not  be  found.  The  police,  it  was  stated,  had 
questioned  these  legatees  as  to  their  movements  on 
the  night  of  the  murder.  The  theory  of  the  police 
seemed  to  be  that  the  murder  had  been  committed  by 
some  one  who  had  heard  about  the  buried  money  and 
believed  it  was  hidden  in  the  house,  or  thought  the 
victim  had  known  where  it  was  hidden. 

She  told  him  that  Scotland  Yard  had  sent  down  a 
detective  to  investigate  the  crime,  and  that  Mr.  Crewe, 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS       139 

the  famous  private  detective,  was  also  working  on  it. 

"Crewe!"  he  exclaimed  in  dismay.  "Who  has 
brought  him  into  it?" 

"He  happened  to  be  staying  at  Staveley  with  Sir 
George  Granville  on  the  night  of  the  murder,  and 
when  Mr.  Marsland  rang  up  his  uncle,  Sir  George 
Granville,  from  the  Ashlingsea  police  station  to  say 
he  was  all  right,  and  to  tell  Sir  George  about  the 
murder,  Mr  Crewe  was  naturally  interested  in  it. 
He  took  up  the  case  on  his  own  initiative  because  his 
host's  nephew  discovered  the  body." 

"I  can't  follow  you,"  he  said.  "Who  is  Mr.  Mars- 
land?"  He  started  back  with  a  look  of  terror  in  his 
eyes.  "My  God,  you  don't  mean  Captain  Mars- 
land?  That  is  who  it  is;  that  is  who  it  is!  I  knew 
I  was  right." 

"Arnold,  what  is  the  matter  ?"  she  exclaimed,  raising 
to  her  feet  and  putting  a  hand  on  his  shoulder.  "You 
look  dreadful." 

"Captain  Marsland,"  he  muttered.  "Captain  Mars- 
land  come  to  life  again."  He  raised  his  clenched  hand 
and  shook  it  slowly  as  if  to  give  impressive  emphasis 
to  his  words.  "That  is  the  man  who  shot  poor  Frank. 
I  knew  I  was  right" 

"Impossible." 

He  turned  on  her  fiercely. 

"Impossible,"  he  echoed.  "Who  are  you  to  say 
it  is  impossible?  What  do  you  know  about  it  or 
about  him  ?  Perhaps  you  are  in  love  with  him  ?" 

"Don't  be  foolish,  Arnold,"  she  said  sternly.  "The 
Mr.  Marsland  I  am  speaking  of  is  not  a  captain — at 
least,  he  does  not  wear  uniform,  and  I  have  not  heard 
any  one  call  him  'captain.'  At  any  rate,  it  is  impos- 


140      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

sible  for  him  to  have  killed  Frank  Lumsden.  I  was 
at  the  farm  before  he  was,  and  poor  Frank's  dead 
body  was  upstairs  all  the  time  I  was  there,  though 
I  did  not  know  it." 

"All  the  time  you  were  there?  When  did  you  get 
there?" 

"About  six  o'clock — just  as  the  storm  came  on." 

"Six  o'clock?  And  was  there  no  one  at  the  house 
when  you  got  there?" 

"No  one." 

"You  saw  no  trace  of  anyone  having  been  there?" 

"No.  I  found  the  key  of  the  door  in  the  lock  and 
naturally  I  thought  that  Frank  had  left  it  there — that 
you  and  he  were  inside.  You  remember  that  you  told 
me  to  be  there  about  six  o'clock,  and  that  you  and 
Frank  would  be  there  before  then." 

"Yes.  That  was  the  arrangement,  but — well,  never 
mind  that,  Elsie,  now ;  tell  me  your  story." 

"I  opened  the  door  and  walked  in,"  she  said.  "I 
called  out  'Is  there  anybody  in?'  but  I  got  no  answer. 
I  thought  then  that  you  and  Frank  were  in  one  of  the 
sheds,  and  I  sat  down  in  the  sitting-room,  expecting 
you,  would  be  back  in  a  moment.  I  took  the  key  out 
of  the  door  so  as  to  make  you  knock  in  order  to  get 
in.  The  rain  was  just  commencing  then,  but  it  had 
been  blowing  hard  for  half  an  hour.  .  About  ten 
minutes  after  I  had  been  in  the  sitting-room  there 
was  a  knock  at  the  front  door.  Naturally  I  thought 
it  was  you.  I  rushed  to  open  it  and  as  I  flung  it 
back  I  asked  what  had  kept  you  so  long.  But  the 
man  on  the  door  step  was  a  stranger — this  Mr.  Mars- 
land." 

"What  is  he  like?"  asked  Brett  quickly. 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      141 

"He  is  rather  good-looking;  fair-haired  and  fair- 
skinned  and  blue-eyed — the  Saxon  type.  He  is  about 
medium  height — not  quite  so  tall  as  you." 

"How  old  is  he?" 

"Quite  young — about  26  or  27,  I  should  say." 

"Does  he  wear  glasses — gold-rimmed  eyeglasses?" 

"He  was  not  wearing  them  then,  but  he  does  wear 
them  as  a  rule.  I  think  he  told  me  subsequently  that 
he  had  lost  a  pair  while  he  was  riding  along — blown 
off  by  the  wind." 

"What  explanation  did  he  give  of  his  visit?" 

"He  had  been  riding  across  the  downs  from  Staveley 
and  had  lost  his  way  in  the  storm.  His  horse  was 
lame  and  when  he  saw  the  house  he  decided  to  seek 
shelter." 

"Did  you  believe  him?" 

"Of  course  I  did— then." 

"Do  you  believe  him  now?" 

"I  don't  know,  Arnold,  after  what  you  have  said. 
He  may  have  been  there  before  I  was — it  may  have 
been  he  who  left  the  key  in  the  door." 

"I  am  sure  of  it." 

"He  came  in  and  sat  down — he  certainly  acted  as 
if  he  had  never  been  in  the  house  before.  I  do  not 
know  how  long  we  were  in  the  sitting-room — perhaps 
twenty  minutes.  We  did  not  talk  very  much.  I  was 
busy  trying  to  think  what  had  become  of  you  and 
Frank.  I  thought  it  best  to  tell  him  as  little  as  possible, 
so  I  made  up  a  story  that  I  had  found  the  door  open 
and  had  walked  in  with  the  intention  of  taking  shelter 
until  the  storm  was  over.  I  said  nothing  about  the 
key.  I  began  to  get  a  little  nervous  as  we  sat  there 
listening  to  the  storm.  I  was  upset  about  you," 


142      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

"Go  on,"  he  said  impatiently,  as  she  paused. 

"Presently  we  heard  a  crash  upstairs — it  was  like 
breaking  glass  or  china.  Mr.  Marsland  said  he  would 
go  upstairs  and  see  what  it  was.  I  determined  to  go 
with  him,  as  I  was  too  frightened  by  that  time  to  stay 
alone.  On  one  of  the  stairs  he  picked  up  Grandfather 
Lumsden's  cryptogram.  I  felt  then  that  Frank  had 
been  there,  and  that  something  dreadful  had  happened. 
We  went  upstairs,  and  there  we  found  Frank's  dead 
body  in  the  arm-chair.  I  thought  at  first  that  he  had 
been  taken  ill  after  you  and  he  got  there  that  after- 
noon, and  that  he  had  died  alone  while  you  were  away 
trying  to  get  a  doctor.  But  Mr.  Marsland  said  he  had 
been  shot.  Poor  Frank !  What  a  dreadful  end." 

"What  time  did  you  leave?" 

"We  left  almost  at  once.  That  would  be  about  a 
quarter  to  seven.  He  went  to  Ashlingsea  police  sta- 
tion to  report  the  discovery  of  the  body.  I  asked  him 
not  to  drag  me  into  it — not  to  tell  the  police  that  I 
had  been  at  the  farm.  I  thought  that  was  the  best 
thing  to  do  until  I  saw  you — until  I  found  where  you 
had  been." 

"Quite  right,  Elsie — everything  you  do  is  right,  my 
dear  girl.  And  while  you  and  this  Marsland  were  at 
the  farm  I  was  just  recovering  consciousness  on  the 
Staveley  road  after  a  bad  smash.  It  was  after  five 
o'clock  before  I  left  Staveley;  I  had  told  Frank  I 
would  leave  about  three  o'clock,  but  I  was  delayed  by 
several  things.  He  told  me  he  would  come  along  the 
road  to  meet  me.  I  was  driving  along  the  road  fairly 
fast  in  order  to  reach  the  farm  before  the  storm  broke, 
and  I  must  have  been  dazed  by  a  flash  of  lightning. 
The  next  thing  I  remember  was  being  awakened  by  the 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      143 

rain  falling  on  my  face  as  I  lay  unconscious  beside 
the  car,  which  had  been  overturned." 

"Were  you  badly  hurt,  dear?" 

"I  was  badly  shaken  and  bruised,  but  the  only  cut 
was  the  one  on  my  head.  I  didn't  know  what  to  do 
at  first.  I  thought  I  would  walk  back  to  Staveley 
and  tell  them  at  the  garage  about  the  car.  But  finally 
I  decided  to  go  on  to  the  Cliff  Farm,  as  it  was  so  much 
nearer  than  Staveley,  and  then  go  to  Staveley  by  train 
in  the  morning.  It  must  have  been  nearly  eight  o'clock 
when  I  reached  the  farm  and  found  the  front  door 
open." 

"We  locked  it,"  she  interposed.  "That  is,  Mr.  Mars- 
land  did:  he  told  me  that  he  was  sure  he  heard  the 
lock  click." 

"It  was  open  when  I  got  there — wide  open,"  he 
persisted. 

"Then  Mr.  Marsland  was  right.  The  murderer  was 
in  the  house  while  we  were  there.  The  crash  we  heard 
was  made  by  him,  and  after  we  went  away  he  bolted 
and  left  the  hall  door  open." 

"The  murderer  was  in  the  house  while  you  were 
there,"  he  said.  "There  is  nothing  more  certain  than 
that.  The  murderer  was  Czptain  Marsland." 

"I  can't  believe  it,"  she  said. 

"Wasn't  it  he  who  put  the  idea  into  your  head, 
after  you  had  left  the  house,  that  the  murderer  might 
have  been  upstairs  all  the  time  ?" 

"Yes,  it  was." 

"And  he  told  you  that  he  had  slammed  the  hall  door 
when  he  left?  You  didn't  see  him  close  it?" 

"No,  I  was  waiting  for  him  down  the  path.    After 


144      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

seeing  poor  Frank  I  felt  too  frightened  to  stay  in 
the  house." 

"Marsland  left  the  door  open,  but  told  you  he  had 
closed  it,  his  object  being  to  give  the  police  the  impres- 
sion that  it  had  been  left  open  by  some  one  who  left 
the  house  after  he  did.  But  I  closed  it  when  I  left — 
I  distinctly  remember  doing  so." 

"What  makes  you  suspect  Marsland?  He  had  no 
grudge  against  Frank.  Why  should  he  kill  him?" 

"If  Marsland  didn't  kill  him,  who  did?" 

"Any  one  may  have  done  so.  A  tramp,  for  instance, 
who  had  broken  into  the  house  and  was  there  when 
Frank  came  home." 

"Do  tramps  in  this  country  carry  revolvers?" 

"Not  usually.  But  since  the  war  many  of  the  men 
discharged  from  the  army  do." 

"There  you've  said  it.  Many  of  the  officers  who 
have  been  discharged  carry  revolvers,  but  not  the 
men.  They  have  got  used  to  doing  it.  At  the  front 
only  officers  carry  revolvers.  And  Marsland  is  an 
officer — a  captain.  He  was  a  captain  in  the  London 
Rifle  Brigade,  in  the  battalion  to  which  Frank  and 
I  belonged." 

"Oh!"  There  was  a  note  of  dismay  in  the  ex- 
clamation of  surprise.  "Does  he  know  you,  Arnold?" 

"I  was  not  one  of  his  company,  but  of  course  he 
knows  me." 

"Did  he  know  Frank?  Do  you  think  he  knew  Frank 
when  he  saw  his  dead  body  in  the  room?" 

"Of  course  he  knew  Frank.  Frank  was  in  his  Com- 
pany." 

"He  did  not  say  anything  to  me  about  this  as  we 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS       145 

walked  home,"  said  Elsie  thoughtfully.  "And  perhaps 
he  has  not  told  the  police.  It  is  very  strange." 

"There  is  nothing  strange  about  it.  He  had  good 
reasons  for  saying  nothing." 

"You  think  he  shot  Frank?  Why  should  he  com- 
mit such  a  crime?" 

"My  dear  Elsie,  strange  things  happen  in  war. 
Frank  told  me  something  about  Captain  Marsland, 
and  as  soon  as  you  mentioned  his  name  it  all  came 
back  to  me.  But  we  thought  he  was  dead.  Frank  told 
me  he  was  killed  at  the  front — a  stray  bullet  or  some- 
thing." 

"What  was  it  that  Frank  told  you  about  him?  I 
must  know." 

"Marsland  sent  a  man  to  certain  death  to  get  him 
out  of  the  way.  One  night  he  sent  Frank  and  another 
man — Collingwood,  I  think  Frank  said  his  name  was 
— as  a  listening  patrol.  They  had  to  crawl  up  near 
the  German  trenches  and,  lying  down  with  their  ears 
to  the  ground,  listen  for  sounds  in  the  German 
trenches  which  might  indicate  that  the  Germans  were 
getting  ready  to  make  an  attack.  While  they  were 
out  this  fellow  Collingwood  told  Frank  his  history. 
Collingwood  had  a  sort  of  premonition  that  he  would 
not  get  back  alive,  and  he  took  Frank  into  his  con- 
fidence. He  said  he  knew  that  Marsland  had  sent 
him  out  in  the  hope  that  the  Germans  would  get  him. 
It  appears  that  Collingwood  and  Marsland  were  both 
in  love  with  the  same  girl,  and  she  preferred  Colling- 
wood, though  her  parents  didn't  approve  of  him.  Col- 
lingwood was  a  gentleman,  like  a  great  many  more  of 
the  rankers  in  Kitchener's  Army.  He  gave  Frank 
a  letter  to  this  girl,  and  her  photograph,  and  asked 

L 


146      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

Frank  to  see  that  she  got  them  if  he  himself  was 
killed.  And  killed  he  was  that  night — through  the 
treachery  of  Marsland.  While  they  were  listening 
they  heard  the  Germans  getting  ready  for  an  attack. 
They  crept  back  to  warn  their  comrades,  but  there 
was  no  one  to  warn.  The  trench  had  been  evacuated. 
When  Marsland  sent  Frank  and  Collingwood  out  as 
a  listening  patrol  he  had  an  order  in  his  pocket  to 
vacate  the  trench,  as  it  had  been  decided  to  fall  back 
half  a  mile  to  a  better  position.  He  thought  he  was 
sending  Collingwood  and  Frank  to  their  death.  Col- 
lingwood was  killed.  The  Germans  attacked  before 
he  and  Frank  could  get  away,  but  Frank,  as  you  know, 
was  taken  prisoner.  I  was  taken  prisoner  the  same 
day,  but  at  a  different  sector  about  a  mile  away.  Sub- 
sequently Frank  and  I  met  as  prisoners — and  after 
being  tortured  by  the  Germans  we  got  away." 

"And  did  Frank  deliver  Collingwood's  letter  to  the 
girl?" 

"No,  that  is  the  sad  part  of  it.  The  Germans  took 
all  his  papers  from  him  and  he  never  saw  them  again. 
He  did  not  know  the  address  of  the  girl  or  even 
her  name." 

"It  was  a  dreadful  thing  for  Captain  Marsland  to 
do,"  she  murmured. 

"A  great  many  dreadful  things  have  been  done  out 
there,"  he  said.  "I'll  tell  you  my  idea  of  how  this 
murder  was  committed.  Marsland  thought  Frank  had 
been  killed  by  the  Germans.  After  riding  across  the 
downs  beyond  Staveley  he  met  Frank,  who  was  walk- 
ing along  the  road  to  meet  me.  He  stopped  Frank 
and  pretended  to  be  very  friendly  to  him.  They  talked 
over  old  times  at  the  front,  Marsland  being  anxious 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      147 

to  know  how  Collingwood  had  died  and  whether 
Collingwood  had  any  idea  that  he  had  been  sent  to 
his  death.  As  there  was  no  sign  of  my  car,  Frank 
turned  back  with  Marsland  to  the  farm.  While  they 
were  in  the  house  Frank  let  slip  the  fact  that  Colling- 
wood had  confided  in  him  before  he  died.  Perhaps 
Marsland  became  aware  of  it  through  an  effort  on 
Frank's  part  to  get  from  him  the  name  of  the  girl  to 
whom  Collingwood  had  been  practically  engaged. 

"No  doubt  there  were  angry  words  between  them; 
and  Marsland,  in  order  to  save  himself  from  being 
exposed  by  Frank  to  the  regimental  authorities,  and 
to  the  girl,  shot  him  dead.  That  would  be  a  few 
minutes  before  you  reached  the  farm.  When  you 
reached  the  house  Marsland  had  gone  outside  to  re- 
move traces  of  the  crime — perhaps  to  burn  something 
or  to  wash  blood-stains  from  his  hands  or  clothing 
at  the  pump.  He  left  the  key  in  the  door  so  that  he 
could  enter  the  house  again.  When  he  found  the 
key  gone  he  was  confused :  he  was  not  certain  whether 
he  had  placed  the  key  in  the  lock.  He  did  not  believe 
that  any  one  had  entered  the  house,  but  to  make  sure 
on  that  point  he  knocked.  He  was  surprised  when 
you  opened  the  door,  but  he  played  his  part  so  well 
that  you  did  not  suspect  he  had  been  in  the  house 
before.  As  you  had  not  discovered  the  body,  he 
thought  it  best  that  you  and  he  should  discover  it 
together.  That  would  be  less  suspicious,  as  far  as 
he  was  concerned,  than  for  you  to  go  away  without 
discovering  it.  Had  you  betrayed  any  suspicion  that 
you  thought  he  was  the  murderer  he  would  have  shot 
you  too,  and  then  made  off." 

"But  his  horse  was  there,"  she  said.    "It  was  quite 


148      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

lame.  He  could  not  have  ridden  away  on  it;  and  to 
leave  it  behind  was  to  leave  the  police  a  convincing 
clue  that  he  had  been  to  Cliff  Farm." 

"I  was  forgetting  about  his  horse/'  said  Brett. 
"It  was  the  fact  that  his  horse  was  there  which  made 
him  knock  after  he  saw  the  key  had  been  taken  from 
the  door.  He  had  to  brazen  it  out." 

"The  police  have  no  suspicion  of  him,  so  far  as  I 
can  ascertain,"  said  the  girl. 

"We  must  direct  their  attention  to  him,"  was  the  reply. 

"Will  you  come  back  to  Staveley  and  tell  Inspector 
Murchison  ?" 

"No,  that  would  be  injudicious.  My  instinct  was 
right  in  telling  me  to  get  out  of  sight  when  I  saw 
Frank's  dead  body.  It  was  after  you  left  the  house 
with  Marsland  that  I  got  there.  The  door  was  open 
as  I  said — Marsland  left  it  open  purposely,  and  told 
you  a  lie  about  closing  it.  I  went  upstairs,  as  I 
couldn't  see  Frank  about  below,  and  when  I  saw  him 
dead  I  felt  immediately  that  his  murder  was  but  the 
continuation  of  some  black  deed  in  France.  I  knew 
instinctively  that  if  I  didn't  disappear  I  should  be  the 
next  victim.  And  so  I  should  be  if  Marsland  knew 
how  much  I  know  about  him.  The  man  is  a  cold- 
blooded villain,  who  thinks  nothing  of  taking  human 
life.  If  I  went  back  to  Staveley  and  accused  him,  he 
would  take  steps  to  put  me  out  of  the  way.  We  must 
get  him  arrested  for  the  murder,  and  when  he  is 
under  lock  and  key  I'll  come  back  to  Staveley  and 
tell  the  police  all  I  know  about  him." 

"But  how  can  we  get  the  police  to  arrest  him  unless 
you  first  tell  them  all  you  know  ?"  she  asked. 

"We  must  find  a  way,"  he  said  thoughtfully. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

CREWE  engaged  a  room  in  Whitethorn  Gardens  in 
order  to  watch  Mrs.  Penfield's  movements,  and  took 
up  his  post  of  observation  immediately.  As  he  did  not 
want  Mrs.  Penfield  to  know  he  was  watching  her 
house,  he  had  chosen  an  attic  bedroom  on  the  opposite 
side  and  some  distance  higher  up  the  steep  street — 
an  elevated  vantage  point,  which  not  only  commanded 
a  view  of  all  the  houses  in  the  street  but  of  a  great 
portion  of  Staveley  and  the  surrounding  country-side 
as  well.  From  this  eyrie  the  detective  could  see  the 
front,  the  downs,  and  the  distant  cliff  road  to  Ashling- 
sea;  but  the  residence  of  Brett's  landlady  engrossed 
his  attention. 

There  was  very  little  sign  of  life  in  the  street.  One 
or  two  old  ladies  walked  primly  in  the  front  gardens 
before  dusk,  but  went  inside  as  soon  as  the  evening 
sea-mist  began  to  rise.  Sedate  maidservants  lit  the 
gas  and  lowered  blinds,  and  the  street  was  left  to 
darkness  till  a  lamplighter  came  and  lit  a  street-lamp 
which  stood  near  No.  41.  Crewe  observed  that  the 
front  rooms  of  No.  41  remained  black  and  unlighted : 
apparently  Mrs.  Penfield  lived  in  the  back  of  the  house 
and  took  her  meals  there. 

As  darkness  was  falling,  Mrs.  Penfield's  elderly 
servant  came  from  the  back  of  the  house,  carrying  a 
large  basket.  She  went  out  of  the  front  gate,  turned 
up  the  street,  and  disappeared  round  the  corner. 

H9 


150      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

About  half  an  hour  later  Crewe  heard  the  front  gate 
click,  and  saw  Mrs.  Penfield  appear.  Her  face  was 
plainly  visible  by  the  street  light  as  she  glanced  anx- 
iously up  and  down  the  street  several  times,  as  though 
she  feared  she  was  watched.  Then  she  turned  down 
the  street  and  walked  quickly  away. 

Crewe  ran  downstairs,  let  himself  noiselessly  out  of 
the  front  door  and  followed  quickly  in  her  wake.  As 
he  neared  the  bottom  of  the  street,  he  saw  her  a 
little  distance  in  front  of  him.  When  she  reached 
the  end  of  Whitethorn  Gardens  she  turned  to  the 
right  along  the  sea  front. 

The  night  was  mild,  and  a  few  drops  of  rain  were 
falling.  The  front  seemed  deserted,  and  was  shrouded 
in  a  mist  which  reduced  the  lamplights  to  a  yellow 
glimmer.  It  was  an  easy  matter  for  Crewe  to  follow 
closely  behind  the  woman,  conscious  that  the  mist 
would  shield  him  from  observation  if  she  turned. 

Mrs.  Penfield  walked  rapidly  along  the  front  till 
she  came  to  High  Street.  Half-way  along  the  front 
the  mist  seemed  suddenly  to  grow  thicker  and  Crewe 
crept  closer  in  order  to  keep  her  in  view.  She  walked 
swiftly  with  her  head  down,  looking  neither  to  the 
right  nor  the  left.  She  passed  under  the  faint  light 
of  a  street  lamp,  and  as  Crewe  came  up  behind  he 
saw  a  uniformed  figure  in  front  of  him.  It  was  Police 
Constable  Heather  who  had  come  over  from  Ashling- 
sea  on  official  business.  Heather  was  so  pleased  at 
this  unexpected  meeting  with  the  great  London  de- 
tective that  he  called  out  in  a  loud  voice : 

"Good  night,  Mr.  Crewe." 

Crewe  answered  softly  and  passed  on.  He  could 
only  hope  that  Mrs.  Penfield  was  so  absorbed  in  her 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      151 

own  thoughts  that  she  had  not  heard  Constable 
Heather's  stentorian  utterance  of  his  name.  Suddenly 
he  heard  her  footsteps  cease  and  he,  too,  came  to  a 
stop.  Then  he  saw  her  confronting  him. 

"Why  are  you  following  me,  Mr.  Crewe?"  she  asked 
in  quick  excited  tones.  "It  was  you  who  telephoned 
to  me  to  come  up  and  see  Inspector  Murchison.  I 
should  have  known  it  was  a  hoax.  You  wanted  to 
get  me  out  of  the  house." 

"If  I  wanted  to  get  you  out  of  the  house,  Mrs.  Pen- 
field,  why  should  I  follow  you  ?"  asked  Crewe. 

"But  you  were  following  me,"  she  persisted. 

"It  is  not  the  sort  of  night  I  would  choose  for  such 
work,"  he  replied. 

"When  I  heard  that  this  man  call  out  your  name,  I 
knew  I  had  been  hoaxed." 

"By  whom  ?"  asked  Crewe,  who  was  puzzled  at  this 
example  of  feminine  reasoning. 

"I  shall  go  back  and  see,"  she  said.  "I  will  ring 
up  Inspector  Murchison  from  there  and  find  out  if  he 
sent  a  message  to  me  to  go  up  to  the  police  station." 

Crewe  was  keenly  interested  in  knowing  if  she  had 
been  hoaxed,  and  by  whom.  Therefore  he  offered  to 
accompany  her  home,  as  it  was  not  a  nice  night  for 
a  lady  to  be  in  the  street  unattended. 

When  they  reached  41  Whitethorn  Gardens,  she 
opened  the  gate,  and  walked  up  to  the  house  rapidly. 
At  the  porch  she  stopped,  touched  Crewe  lightly  on 
the  arm,  and  pointed  to  the  front  door.  In  the  dim 
light  a  patch  of  blackness  showed ;  the  door  was  open. 

"Come  with  me,"  she  whispered,  "and  we  will  take 
him  by  surprise.  Don't  strike  a  match ;  give  me  your 
hand." 


152      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

She  walked  noiselessly  along  the  dark  hall,  and  turn- 
ing into  a  passage  some  distance  down  it  led  the  way 
through  an  open  doorway  into  a  room — a  small  and 
stuffy  storeroom,  Crewe  imagined  it  to  be,  as  the  air 
was  suggestive  of  cheese  and  preserves. 

"Go,  Arnold,  the  police  are  here !    Go  at  once  I" 

The  words  rang  shrilly  through  the  house.  Crewe 
realized  that  he  had  been  tricked  by  the  woman  and 
he  sprang  forward  to  the  door.  But  the  click  of  a 
lock  told  him  he  was  too  late.  He  struck  a  match  and 
its  light  revealed  to  him  Mrs.  Penfield  standing  with 
her  back  against  the  door  she  had  closed. 

"There  is  a  candle  on  the  shelf  behind  you,"  she 
said  composedly. 

Crewe's  glance  followed  the  turn  of  her  head;  he 
lit  the  candle  with  his  expiring  match.  The  candle 
flickered,  then  burnt  brightly,  and  the  detective  saw 
that  he  was  in  a  small  storeroom  with  shelves  lining 
the  walls.  He  turned  again  to  Mrs.  Penfield  who  was 
watching  him  closely. 

"Why  did  you  alarm  him?"  he  asked.  "You  think 
it  was  Brett  ?" 

Although  his  tone  was  one  of  curiosity  rather  than 
anger,  the  woman  threw  her  arms  out  at  full  length 
as  though  she  feared  he  would  attempt  to  drag  her 
away  from  the  door. 

"Do  not  be  afraid,"  said  Crewe.  "You  have  noth- 
ing to  fear  from  me.  And,  as  for  him,  it  is  too  late 
to  pursue  him." 

"I  must  give  him  ample  time  to  make  his  escape," 
she  said.  "You  will  go  and  tell  the  police  he  was 
here." 

"What    makes    you   think    it    was    Brett?"    asked 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      153 

Crewe.  "If  he  came  back  this  way — if  he  hoaxed  you 
with  a  telephone  message  in  order  to  get  you  out 
of  the  house — he  has  shown  a  lamentable  want  of  trust 
in  you." 

"He  knows  he  can  trust  me,"  she  said  confidently. 
"He  can  never  doubt  it  after  to-night." 

"I  cannot  conceive  why  he  should  take  the  great 
risk  of  coming  back,"  he  said  meditatively. 

"That  means  you  would  like  to  go  up  to  his  rooms 
and  find  out  what  he  came  for.  But  I  forbid  you. 
If  you  attempt  to  go  upstairs,  I  will  rouse  the  neigh- 
bourhood with  the  cry  that  there  are  burglars  in  the 
house." 

"I  think  you  have  more  reason  to  be  afraid  of  the 
police  than  I,"  said  Crewe.  "However,  I  am  in  your 
hands.  As  far  as  I  am  concerned,  you  can  have  full 
credit  for  having  saved  him  to-night." 

She  showed  her  faith  in  this  assurance  by  unlocking 
the  door.  Taking  the  candle  from  the  shelf,  she  led 
the  way  along  the  passage  and  the  hall  again.  She 
opened  the  front  door,  and  held  the  candle  higher  to 
light  him  out.  She  stood  in  the  open  doorway  till 
Crewe  reached  the  garden  gate. 

He  walked  back  along  the  front.  The  mist  was 
still  rising  from  the  sea  in  great  white  billows,  which 
rolled  across  the  beach  and  shrouded  everything  in  an 
impenetrable  veil.  It  penetrated  unpleasantly  into  the 
eyes  and  throat,  and  Crewe  was  glad  when  he  turned 
off  the  deserted  parade  and  reached  Sir  George  Gran- 
ville's  house. 

The  servant  who  admitted  him  told  him  the  family 
were  in  the  drawing-room,  and  thither  he  directed  his 
steps.  Lady  Granville  was|  seated  at  the  piano,  playing 


154      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

softly.  Marsland  in  an  easy  chair  was  listlessly  turn- 
ing over  the  pages  of  a  bound  volume  of  Punch.  Sir 
George  was  in  another  easy  chair  a  little  distance 
away,  nodding  in  placid  slumber  with  his  handsome 
white  beard  on  his  breast,  and  an  extinguished  cigar 
between  his  fingers. 

Lady  Granville  smiled  at  Crewe  as  he  entered,  and 
stopped  playing.  The  cessation  of  the  music  awak- 
ened Sir  George,  and  when  he  saw  Crewe  his  eyes 
wandered  towards  the  chess-table. 

"Do  you  feel  inclined  for  a  game  of  chess?"  he  ex- 
claimed in  his  loud  voice.  "I  want  my  revenge,  you 
know." 

"I'll  be  pleased  to  give  it  to  you,"  responded  Crewe. 

"A  very  unpleasant  night  outside,"  said  Marsland. 

"The  mist  seems  to  be  thicker  up  this  end  of  the 
front,"  replied  Crewe.  "Have  you  been  out  in  it?" 

"I  came  in  about  five  minutes  ago.  I  went  for  a 
walk." 

Lady  Granville  took  a  book  and  seated  herself  not 
far  from  the  chess-table.  Marsland  came  and  stood 
near  the  players,  watching  the  game.  He  soon  got 
tired  of  it,  however,  and  went  back  to  Punch.  Sir 
George  was  a  slow  player  at  all  times,  and  his  anxiety 
when  pitted  against  a  renowned  player  like  Crewe 
made  him  slower  than  usual.  He  studied  each  move 
of  Crewe's  in  all  its  bearings  before  replying,  scruti- 
nizing the  board  with  set  face,  endeavouring  to  pene- 
trate his  opponent's  intentions,  and  imagining  subtle 
traps  where  none  existed.  Meanwhile,  his  fingers  hov- 
ered nervously  above  the  pieces  with  the  irresolute' 
ness  of  a  chess-player  weighed  down  by  the  heavy 
responsibility  of  his  next  move,  and,  finally,  when  the 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      155 

plunge  had  been  taken  Sir  George  sat  back,  stroking 
his  long  white  beard  doubtfully,  and  fixed  his  eyes  on 
Crewe,  as  though  mutely  asking  his  opinion  of  the 
move.  "Game"  seemed  an  inappropriate  word  to  ap- 
ply to  chess  as  played  by  Sir  George  Granville. 

It  was  during  one  of  these  strategical  pauses,  after 
the  game  had  been  in  progress  for  nearly  an  hour,  that 
Crewe  heard  a  frightened  exclamation  from  Lady 
Granville.  He  looked  up  and  saw  Marsland  standing 
near  the  fire-place  with  his  hand  over  his  heart,  sway- 
ing as  though  about  to  fall.  Crewe  sprang  forward 
and  supported  him  to  an  easy  chair. 

"A  little  brandy,"  said  Crewe  quietly. 

Sir  George  hurriedly  brought  a  decanter  of  brandy 
and  a  glass,  and  Crewe  poured  a  little  down  Mars- 
land's  throat.  The  colour  came  slowly  back  to  the 
young  man's  cheeks,  and  he  smiled  feebly  at  the 
three  faces  looking  down  at  him. 

"I'm  afraid  I've  been  giving  you  a  lot  of  trouble," 
he  said,  with  an  obvious  effort  to  collect  himself. 

"I'll  ring  up  for  Dr.  Harrison,"  Sir  George  spoke 
in  a  loud  voice,  as  though  to  reassure  himself. 

"There  is  not  the  slightest  need  to  send  for  Harri- 
son," said  Marsland.  "I'm  quite  right  again.  I  must 
expect  these  attacks  occasionally  for  some  time  to 
come.  They're  nothing — just  weakness.  All  I  need 
is  a  good  night's  rest,  and  if  you'll  excuse  me  I'll 
retire  now."  He  got  up  and  walked  resolutely  out  of 
the  room  with  square  shoulders,  as  though  to  demon- 
strate to  those  watching  him  that  no  trace  of  his 
weakness  remained. 

"Do  you  think  it  is  safe  to  leave  him  alone?"  said 
Sir  George  turning  to  Crewe,  as  the  door  closed  on 


156      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

his  nephew's  retreating  figure.  "I  feel  very  anxious 
about  him.  Anything  might  happen  to  him  during  the 
night." 

"A  good  night's  rest  will  do  him  more  good  than 
anything  else.  He  has  been  under  a  rather  severe 
nervous  strain  during  the  last  few  days.  We  will  go 
to  his  room  in  a  few  minutes  to  see  how  he  is." 

They  settled  down  to  their  game  again  and  Lady 
Granville  moved  up  her  chair  near  the  chess-table  for 
the  sake  of  their  company  and  pretended  to  take  an 
interest  in  the  game.  Only  a  few  moves  had  been 
made  when  there  was  a  loud  report  of  an  explosion. 
Lady  Granville  jumped  up  from  her  chair  and 
screamed  and  then  fell  back  into  the  chair  in  a  faint. 

"Look  to  her,"  said  Crewe  to  his  host,  "while  I  go 
and  see  what's  the  matter." 

As  he  ran  along  the  hall  to  the  staircase  he  met  two 
of  the  maids,  who  with  white  faces  and  hands  clasped 
in  front  of  them  seemed  too  frightened  to  move. 

"Where  was  it?"  asked  Crewe.    "Upstairs?" 

"Yes,  sir,  upstairs,"  said  one  of  them. 

"It  came  from  Mr.  Marsland's  room,"  added  the 
other,  in  an  awed  whisper. 

Crewe  ran  straight  for  Marsland's  room,  expecting 
to  find  there  some  evidence  of  a  tragedy.  As  he  burst 
into  the  room  he  saw  to  his  great  relief  that  Marsland 
was  there,  leaning  out  of  the  window. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Crewe.  "Did  you  fire  a  re- 
volver?" 

Marsland,  who  was  wearing  a  dressing-gown,  came 
from  the  window.  In  his  right  hand  he  was  holding 
a  big  revolver. 

"I  missed  him,"  he  said. 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      157 

"Missed  whom?" 

"A  burglar." 

"It  is  very  early  in  the  night  for  a  burglar  to  be 
out" 

"He  took  advantage  of  the  mist.  He  must  have 
thought  that  there  was  no  one  in  the  room.  I  had 
turned  out  the  light  and  was  resting  on  the  bed.  I 
was  half  asleep,  but  he  knocked  a  brush  off  the  dress- 
ing-table as  he  was  getting  through  the  window  and 
that  woke  me  up.  I  caught  a  good  glimpse  of  him  and 
I  fired.  He  dropped  at  once,  and  I  thought  I  had 
hit  him,  but  when  I  looked  out  of  the  window  I  saw 
him  disappear  in  the  mist.  What  an  awful  pity  I 
didn't  get  him." 

"How  did  you  happen  to  be  lying  down  with  a 
revolver  beside  you?"  asked  Crewe. 

"I  often  take  it  to  bed  with  me.  That  is  the  result 
of  the  life  at  the  front.  And  to-night  I  had  a  kind 
of  presentiment  that  I  should  need  it." 

It  oc  :urred  to  Crewe  that  the  young  man  had  been 
subject  to  hallucinations  during  his  illness.  This 
habit  of  sleeping  with  a  revolver  under  his  pillow 
seemed  to  indicate  that  his  cure  was  still  far  from 
complete.  Was  the  burglar  a  phantom  of  a  sick 
mind? 

He  went  over  to  the  window  for  the  purpose  of 
looking  out  but  his  attention  was  arrested  by  a  stain 
on  the  outside  sill. 

"You  did  not  miss  him  altogether,"  he  said  to 
Marsland.  "Look  here." 

Marsland  touched  the  stain  and  held  a  blood-stained 
finger  up  to  the  light  for  his  own  inspectioa 


CHAPTER  XIV 

CREWE  steered  to  the  stone  landing-place  and  tied  the 
little  motor-boat  to  a  rusty  iron  ring  which  dangled 
from  a  stout  wooden  stake,  wedged  between  two  of 
the  seaweed  covered  stones.  The  tide  was  out,  and 
the  top  of  the  landing-place  stood  well  out  of  the 
water,  but  it  was  an  easy  matter  for  a  young  and 
vigorous  man  to  spring  up  to  the  top,  though  three 
rough  and  slippery  steps  had  been  cut  near  the  ring, 
perhaps  for  the  original  builder  in  his  old  and  infirm 
days. 

Looking  down,  he  noticed  that  while  his  little  boat 
floated  easily  enough  alongside,  a  boat  of  slightly 
deeper  draught  would  have  scraped  on  the  rocky  bot- 
tom, which  was  visible  through  the  clear  water.  The 
surface  of  the  landing-place  was  moist,  and  the  inter- 
sections between  the  rough  stones  were  filled  with  sea- 
weed and  shells,  indicating  that  the  place  was  covered 
at  high  tide. 

Crewe  had  come  from  Staveley  by  boat  instead  of 
motoring  across,  his  object  being  to  make  a  complete 
investigation  of  Cliff  Farm  without  attracting  chance 
attention  or  rural  curiosity  about  his  motor-car,  which 
was  too  big  to  go  into  the  stables.  He  wanted  to  be 
undisturbed  and  uninterrupted  in  his  investigation  of 
the  house.  As  he  entered  the  boat-house,  he  looked 
back  to  where  he  had  left  his  boat,  and  saw  that  the 

158 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      159 

landing-place  was  high  enough  out  of  the  water  to 
prevent  passers-by  on  the  cliff  road  seeing  the  boat 
before  high  tide.  By  that  time  he  hoped  to  have  com- 
pleted his  investigations  and  be  on  his  way  back  to 
Staveley. 

The  boat-house  was  a  small  and  rickety  structure 
perched  on  a  rough  foundation  of  stones,  which  had 
been  stacked  to  the  same  height  as  the  landing-place. 
The  inside  was  dismal  and  damp,  and  the  woodwork 
was  decaying.  Part  of  the  roof  had  fallen  in,  and 
the  action  of  wind  and  sea  and  storm  had  partly 
destroyed  the  boarded  sides.  Many  of  the  boards  had 
parted  from  the  joists,  and  hung  loosely,  or  had  fallen 
on  the  stones.  An  old  boat  lay  on  the  oozing  stones, 
with  its  name,  Polly,  barely  decipherable  on  the  stern, 
and  a  kedge  anchor  and  rotting  coil  of  rope  inside  it. 
Crewe  had  no  doubt  that  it  was  the  boat  James  Lums- 
den  used  to  go  fishing  in  many  years  ago.  A  few  de- 
cayed boards  in  front  of  the  boat-house  indicated  the 
remains  of  a  wooden  causeway  for  launching  the  boat. 
In  a  corner  of  the  shed  was  a  rusty  iron  windlass, 
which  suggested  the  means  whereby  the  eccentric  old 
man  had  been  able  to  house  his  boat  without  assistance 
when  he  returned  with  his  catch. 

Having  finished  his  scrutiny  of  the  boatshed  and 
its  contents,  Crewe  made  his  way  up  the  cliff  path, 
and  walked  across  the  strip  of  downs  to  the  farm. 

Cliff  Farm  looked  the  picture  of  desolation  and 
loneliness  in  the  chill,  grey  autumn  afternoon.  Its 
gaunt,  closely-shuttered  ugliness  confronted  Crewe  un- 
compromisingly, as  though  defying  him  to  wrest  from 
it  the  secret  of  the  tragic  death  of  its  owner.  It 
already  had  that  air  of  neglect  and  desertion  which 


160      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

speedily  overtakes  the  house  which  has  lost  its  habi- 
tants. There  was  no  sign  of  any  kind  of  life;  the 
meadows  were  empty  of  live-stock.  Somewhere  in 
the  outbuildings  at  the  side  of  the  house  an  unfastened 
door  flapped  and  banged  drearily  in  the  wind.  Even 
the  front  door  required  main  strength  to  force  it 
open  after  it  had  been  unlocked,  as  though  it  shared 
with  the  remainder  of  the  house  the  determination  to 
keep  the  secret  of  the  place,  and  resented  intrusion. 
The  interior  of  the  house  was  dark,  close  and  musty. 
Through  the  closed  and  shuttered  windows  not  a  ray 
of  light  or  a  breath  of  air  had  been  able  to  find  an 
entrance. 

Crewe's  first  act  was  to  open  the  shutters  and 
the  windows  on  the  ground  floor;  his  next  to  fling 
open  the  front  and  back  doors,  and  the  doors  of  the 
rooms.  He  wanted  all  the  light  he  could  get  for  the 
task  before  him,  and  some  fresh  air  to  breathe.  He 
soon  had  both :  wholesale,  pure  strong  air  from  the 
downs,  blowing  in  through  doors  and  windows,  stir- 
ring up  the  accumulated  dust  on  the  floors,  causing 
it  to  float  and  dance  in  the  sunbeams  that  streamed 
in  the  front  windows  from  the  rays  of  an  evening  sun, 
which  had  succeeded  in  freeing  himself  in  his  last 
moments  above  the  horizon  from  the  mass  of  grey 
clouds  that  had  made  the  day  so  chill  and  cheerless. 

Crewe  commenced  to  examine  each  room  and  its 
contents  with  the  object  of  trying  to  discover  some- 
thing which  would  assist  him  in  his  investigation  of 
the  Cliff  Farm  murder.  He  worked  carefully  and 
minutely,  but  with  the  swiftness  and  method  of  a 
practised  observer. 

The  front  room  that  he  first  entered  detained  him 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      161 

only  a  few  minutes.  Originally  designed  for  the 
sitting-room,  it  had  been  dismantled  and  contained 
very  little  furniture,  and  had  evidently  not  been  used 
for  a  considerable  time.  A  slight  fissure  in  the  out- 
side wall  explained  the  reason:  the  fissure  had  made 
the  room  uninhabitable  by  admitting  wind  and 
weather,  causing  damp  to  appear  on  the  walls,  and 
loosening  the  wall-paper  till  it  hung  in  festoons. 

Crewe  next  examined  the  opposite  front  room  in 
which  Sergeant  Westaway  conducted  his  preliminary 
inquiries  into  the  murder.  This  room  was  simply 
furnished  with  furniture  of  an  antique  pattern.  Ap- 
parently it  had  been  used  at  a  more  or  less  recent 
date  as  the  sitting-room,  for  a  few  old  books  and  a 
couple  of  modern  cheaply  bound  novels  were  lying 
about;  a  needle  with  a  piece  of  darning  cotton  which 
was  stuck  in  the  wall  suggested  a  woman's  occupation, 
or  perhaps  the  murdered  man  or  his  grandson  had  done 
bachelor  darning  there  in  the  winter  evenings.  The 
latter  hypothesis  seemed  most  probable  to  Crewe :  only 
a  very  untidy  member  of  the  other  sex  would  have 
left  a  darning  needle  sticking  in  the  sitting-room  wall. 

Crewe  then  examined  the  room  behind  the  front 
room  in  which  Marsland  and  Miss  Maynard  had  sat 
before  discovering  the  murdered  man.  It  was  the 
front  room  of  an  English  farm-house  of  a  bygone  age, 
kept  for  show  and  state  occasions  but  not  for  use, 
crowded  with  big  horse-hair  chairs  and  a  horse-hair 
sofa.  There  were  two  tables — a  large  round  one  with 
a  mahogany  top  and  a  smaller  one  used  as  a  stand  for 
the  lamp  Marsland  had  lit — a  glass  case  of  stuffed 
birds ;  an  old  clock  in  a  black  case  on  the  mantelpiece, 
which  had  been  stopped  so  long  that  its  works 

M 


162      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

were  festooned  with  spiders'  webs;  a  few  dingy  oil- 
paintings  on  the  walls,  alternately  representing  scenes 
from  the  Scriptures  and  the  English  chase,  and  a  moth- 
eaten  carpet  on  the  floor.  There  was  also  a  small 
glass  bookcase  in  a  corner  containing  some  bound  vol- 
umes of  the  Leisure  Hour  of  the  sixties,  Peter 
Parley's  Annual,  Johnson's  Dictionary,  an  ancient 
Every  Day  Book,  and  an  old  family  Bible  with  brass 
clasps. 

It  was  in  the  room  next  to  the  sitting-room  that 
Crewe  found  the  first  article  which  suggested  possi- 
bilities of  a  clue.  It  was  a  small  room,  which  had  evi- 
dently been  used  by  a  former  occupant  as  an  office,  for 
it  contained  an  oak  case  holding  account  books,  some 
files  of  yellowing  bills  hanging  from  nails  on  the 
wall,  and  an  old-fashioned  writing  bureau.  It  was 
this  last  article  that  attracted  Crewe's  attention.  It 
was  unlocked,  and  he  examined  closely  the  papers  it 
contained.  But  they  threw  no  light  on  the  mystery 
of  Cliff  Farm,  being  for  the  most  part  business  letters, 
receipted  bills,  and  household  accounts. 

There  was  a  bundle  of  faded  letters  in  one  of  the 
pigeon-holes  tied  with  black  ribbon,  which  had  been 
written  to  Mrs.  James  Lumsden  from  somebody  who 
signed  himself  "Yours  to  command,  Geoffrey  La 
Touche."  These  letters  were  forty  years  old,  and  had 
been  sent  during  a  period  of  three  years  from  "Her 
Majesty's  sloop  Hyacinth"  at  different  foreign  ports. 
They  were  stiff  and  formal,  though  withal  courteous  in 
tone,  and  various  passages  in  them  suggested  that  the 
writer  had  been  an  officer  in  the  Royal  Navy  and  a  rel- 
ative of  Mrs.  Lumsden.  They  ceased  with  a  letter  writ- 
ten to  "James  Lumsden,  Esq.,"  expressing  the  writer's 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      163 

"deep  regret  and  sincere  sorrow"  on  learning  of  his 
"dear  niece's  sad  and  premature  end." 

There  was  another  room  opposite  this  office  which 
had  doubtless  been  intended  for  a  breakfast-room,  but 
was  now  stored  with  odds  and  ends:  superfluous 
articles  of  furniture,  some  trunks,  a  pile  of  bound 
volumes  of  the  Illustrated  London  News,  and  a  few 
boxes  full  of  miscellaneous  rubbish.  The  passage  on 
which  these  rooms  opened  terminated  in  two  stone 
steps  leading  into  the  kitchen,  which  was  the  full 
width  of  the  house.  A  notable  piece  of  furniture  in 
this  room  was  an  oaken  dresser  with  shelves  reaching 
to  the  ceiling.  There  were  also  a  deal  table,  some 
kitchen  chairs,  and  an  arm-chair. 

From  the  blackened  beams  of  its  low  sloping  ceiling 
some  hams  and  strings  of  onions  hung,  and  an  open 
tea-caddy  stood  on  the  table,  with  a  leaden  spoon  in 
it,  as  though  somebody  had  recently  been  making  tea. 
An  old  brown  earthenware  teapot  stood  by  the  fire- 
place with  tea-leaves  still  in  the  pot,  and  Crewe  noticed 
on  the  mantelpiece  a  churchwarden  pipe,  with  a  spill 
of  paper  alongside.  He  found  a  pair  of  horn  spec- 
tacles and  an  old  newspaper  on  the  top  of  the  press 
beside  the  old-fashioned  fire-place.  Evidently  the 
kitchen  had  been  the  favourite  room  of  Frank  Lums- 
den's  grandfather — the  eccentric  old  man  who  had 
built  the  landing-place. 

Before  examining  the  upper  portion  of  the  house 
Crewe  closed  the  doors  and  windows  he  had  opened, 
restoring  things  to  the  condition  in  which  he  had 
found  them.  Then  he  went  upstairs,  and,  after  open- 
ing the  windows  and  blinds  as  he  had  opened  them 


164      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

downstairs,  entered  the  room  in  which  the  murdered 
man  had  been  discovered. 

It  was  while  Crewe  was  thus  engaged  that  his  quick 
ears  detected  a  slight  crunch  of  footsteps  on  the 
ground  outside,  as  though  somebody  was  approaching 
the  house.  The  room  he  was  searching  looked  out  on 
pasture  land,  but  he  was  aware  that  there  was  a  gravel 
path  on  the  other  side,  running  from  the  outbuildings 
at  the  side  to  the  rear  of  the  house.  He  crossed  over 
to  the  corresponding  room  on  that  side  of  the  house, 
and  looked  out  of  the  open  window,  but  could  see  no 
one. 

He  ran  quietly  downstairs  and  into  the  kitchen. 
His  idea  was  to  watch  the  intruder  by  looking  through 
one  of  the  kitchen  windows,  without  revealing  his  own 
presence,  but  he  found  to  his  annoyance  that  the  little 
diamond  shaped  kitchen  window  which  looked  out 
on  the  back  was  so  placed  as  to  command  a  view 
of  only  a  small  portion  of  the  bricked  yard  at  the  back 
of  the  house. 

He  waited  for  a  moment  in  the  hope  that  the  visitor 
would  enter  the  house  through  the  unlocked  kitchen 
door,  but  as  he  heard  no  further  sound  he  decided  to 
go  in  search  of  the  person  whose  footsteps  he  had 
heard.  He  opened  the  door  and  looked  over  the  empty 
yard.  Suddenly  a  woman's  figure  appeared  in  the 
doorway  of  the  barn  on  the  left.  Immediately  she  saw 
Crewe  she  retreated  into  the  shed  in  the  hope  that 
she  had  not  been  seen.  In  order  to  undeceive  her  on 
this  point,  Crewe  walked  down  the  yard  to  the  barn, 
but  before  he  reached  it  she  came  out  to  meet  him. 
She  was  young  and  pretty  and  well  dressed. 

•"You  are  Mr.  Crewe."  she  said  with  composure. 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      165 

"And  you  are  Miss  Maynard.  We  have  not  met 
before,  but  I  have  heard  a  great  deal  about  you." 

She  read  suspicion  in  his  use  of  the  conventional 
phrase  and  she  decided  to  meet  it. 

"I  came  out  to  look  at  the  old  place — at  the  scene 
of  this  dreadful  tragedy — before  finally  deciding  what 
I  ought  to  do." 

He  realized  that  having  said  so  much  she  had  more 
to  say,  and  he  gave  her  no  assistance. 

"Perhaps  Mr.  Marsland  has  not  told  you,  Mr.  Crewe, 
that  I  was  with  him  in  the  house  when  he  discovered 
the  body." 

"He  has  not,"  replied  Crewe. 

"That  makes  it  all  the  more  difficult  for  me.  I  do 
not  mind  telling  you,  for  you  are  his  friend,  and  you 
are  such  a  clever  man  that  I  feel  I  will  be  right  in. 
taking  your  advice." 

Crewe's  mental  reservation  to  be  slow  in  offering 
her  advice  was  an  indication  that  his  suspicions  of  her 
were  not  allayed. 

"I  also  sought  shelter  here  from  the  storm  on  that 
fateful  night,"  she  continued.  "But  because  I  was 
afraid  of  the  gossip  of  Ashlingsea  I  asked  Mr.  Mars- 
land  if  he  would  mind  keeping  my  name  out  of  it. 
And  he  very  generously  promised  to  do  so." 

"A  grave  error  on  both  sides,"  said  Crewe. 

She  was  quick  in  seizing  the  first  opening  he  gave 
her. 

"That  is  the  conclusion  I  have  come  to ;  that  is  why 
I  think  I  ought  to  go  to  the  police  and  tell  them  that 
I  was  here.  They  may  be  able  to  make  something  out 
of  my  story — they  may  be  able  to  see  more  in  it  than 
I  can.  My  simple  statement  of  facts  might  fit  in  with 


166      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

some  other  information  in  their  possession  of  which 
I  know  nothing,  and  in  that  way  might  lead  to  the 
detection  of  the  man  who  killed  Frank  Lumsden.  But 
how  can  I  go  to  them  and  tell  them  I  was  here  after 
I  begged  Mr.  Marsland  to  say  nothing  about  me  ?  He 
would  never  forgive  me  for  placing  him  in  such  an 
embarrassing  position.  It  would  not  be  right." 

"And  it  is  not  right  to  keep  from  the  police  any 
information  to  which  they  are  entitled." 

"That  is  my  difficulty,"  she  said,  with  a  smile  of 
gratitude  to  him  for  stating  it  so  clearly. 

"I  have  no  hesitation  in  advising  you  to  tell  the 
police  the  whole  truth,"  said  Crewe. 

"And  Mr.  Marsland?" 

"He  must  extract  himself  from  the  position  in  which 
his  promise  to  you  has  placed  him.  He  knows  that 
the  promise  should  never  have  been  made,  and  doubt- 
less in  the  end  he  will  be  glad  to  have  been  released 
from  it." 

"I  hope  he  will  understand  my  motives,"  she  said. 

"Perhaps  not.  But  he  will  begin  to  realize,  what 
all  young  men  have  to  learn,  that  it  is  sometimes  diffi- 
cult to  understand  the  motives  which  actuate  young 
ladies." 

That  reply  seemed  to  indicate  to  her  that  their  con- 
versation had  reached  the  level  of  polite  banter. 

"Will  you  plead  for  me?"  she  asked. 

"That  is  outside  my  province,"  was  the  disappoint- 
ing reply.  "I  understood  you  to  say,  Miss  Maynard, 
that  you  came  here  that  night  for  shelter  from  the 
storm.  Did  you  arrive  at  the  house  before  Marsland 
or  after  him?" 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      167 

There  was  a  moment  of  hesitation  before  her  reply 
was  given. 

"A  few  minutes  before  him." 

"No  doubt  you  will  materially  assist  the  police  by 
giving  them  a  full  account  of  what  you  know,"  said 
Crewe. 


CHAPTER  XV 

"GooD  morning,  sergeant." 

"Good  morning,  Miss  Maynard.  What  can  I  do 
for  you?" 

It  was  seldom  that  Sergeant  Westaway  was  so 
obliging  as  to  make  a  voluntary  offer  of  his  services, 
but  then  it  was  still  more  seldom  that  a  young  lady 
of  Miss  Maynard's  social  standing  came  to  seek  his 
advice  or  assistance  at  the  police  station.  As  the 
daughter  of  a  well-to-do  lady,  Miss  Maynard  was 
entitled  to  official  respect. 

The  sergeant  had  known  Miss  Maynard  since  her 
mother  had  first  come  to  live  at  Ashlingsea  fifteen 
years  ago.  He  had  seen  her  grow  up  from  a  little 
girl  to  a  young  lady,  but  the  years  had  increased  the 
gulf  between  them.  As  a  schoolgirl  home  from  her 
holidays  it  was  within  the  sergeant's  official  privilege 
to  exchange  a  word  or  two  when  saluting  her  in  the 
street.  Her  development  into  long  dresses  made  any- 
thing more  than  a  bare  salutation  savour  of  familiarity, 
and  the  sergeant  knew  his  place  too  well  to  be  guilty 
of  familiarity  with  those  above  him. 

With  scrupulous  care  he  had  always  uttered  the 
name  "Miss  Maynard,"  when  saluting  her  in  those 
days,  so  that  she  might  recognize  that  he  was  one  of 
the  first  to  admit  the  claims  of  adolescence  to  the 
honours  of  maturity.  Then  came  a  time  with  the 
further  lapse  of  years  when  she  reached  the  threshold 

168 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      169 

of  womanhood,  and  to  utter  her  name  in  salutation 
would  have  savoured  of  familiarity.  So  the  salute  be- 
came a  silent  one  as  indicative  of  Sergeant  Westaway's 
recognition  that  his  voice  could  not  carry  across  the 
increased  gulf  between  them. 

"I  have  something  very  important  to  tell  you,"  said 
Miss  Maynard,  in  reply  to  his  intimation  that  the  full 
extent  of  his  official  powers  were  at  her  disposal. 

"Ah!" 

The  sergeant  realized  that  a  matter  of  great  per- 
sonal importance  to  Miss  Maynard  might  readily  prove 
to  be  of  minor  consequence  to  him  when  viewed 
through  official  glasses ;  but  there  was  no  hint  of  this 
in  the  combination  of  politeness  and  obsequiousness 
with  which  he  opened  the  door  leading  from  the  main 
room  of  the  little  police  station  to  his  private  room 
behind  it. 

He  placed  a  chair  for  her  at  the  office  table  and 
then  went  round  to  his  own  chair  and  stood  beside  it. 
There  was  a  pause,  due  to  the  desire  to  be  helped  with 
questions,  but  Sergeant  Westaway's  social  sense  was 
greater  than  his  sense  of  official  importance,  and  he 
waited  for  her  to  begin. 

"It  is  about  the  Cliff  Farm  murder,"  she  said  in  a 
low  voice. 

"Oh!"  It  was  an  exclamation  in  which  astonish- 
ment and  anticipation  of  official  delight  were  blended. 
"And  do  you — do  you  know  anything  about  it?"  he 
asked. 

"I  am  not  sure  what  you  will  think  of  my  story — 
whether  there  is  any  clue  in  it.  I  must  leave  that 
for  you  to  judge.  But  I  feel  that  I  ought  to  tell  you 
all  that  I  do  know." 


"Quite  right,"  said  the  sergeant.  His  official  man- 
ner, rising  like  a  tide,  was  submerging  his  social  sense 
of  inequality.  "There  is  nothing  like  telling  the  police 
the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  and  nothing  but  the  truth. 
It  is  always  the  best  way."  His  social  sense  made  a 
last  manifestation  before  it  threw  up  its  arms  and 
sank.  "Not  that  I  suppose  for  one  moment,  Miss 
Maynard,  that  you  had  anything  to  do  with  it — that 
is  to  say,  that  you  actually  participated  in  the  crime." 

He  looked  at  her  inquiringly  and  she  shook  her 
head,  smiling  sadly  as  she  did  so. 

"But  there  is  no  reason  why,  after  all,  you  might 
not  know  who  did  it,"  said  the  sergeant  in  a  coaxing 
voice  which  represented  an  appeal  to  her  to  do  her 
best  to  justify  his  high  hopes.  "In  some  respects  it 
is  a  mysterious  crime,  and  although  the  police  have 
their  suspicions — and  very  strong  suspicions  too — they 
are  always  glad  to  get  reliable  information,  especially 
when  it  supports  their  suspicions." 

"And  whom  do  you  suspect?"  she  asked. 

Sergeant  Westaway  was  taken  aback  at  such  a  ques- 
tion. It  was  such  an  outrageous  attempt  to  penetrate 
the  veil  of  official  secrecy  that  he  could  refrain  from 
rebuking  her  only  by  excusing  it  on  the  ground  of 
her  youth  and  inexperience. 

"At  present  I  can  say  nothing,"  was  his  reply. 

She  turned  aside  from  his  official  manoeuvring  and 
took  up  her  own  story : 

"What  I  came  to  tell  you  is  that  I  was  at  Cliff 
Farm  on  the  night  that  poor  Mr.  Lumsden  was  shot." 

"You  were  there  when  he  was  shot?"  exclaimed 
the  sergeant. 

"No ;  he  was  dead  when  I  got  there." 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      171 

"Did  you  hear  the  shot  ?" 

"No." 

"But  you  saw  some  one?" 

"I  saw  Mr  Marsland." 

"Ah!"  The  commonplace  tone  in  which  the  word 
was  uttered  indicated  that  the  sergeant  was  deeply 
disappointed  with  her  story.  "We  know  all  about 
his  visit  there.  He  came  and  told  us — it  was  through 
him  that  we  discovered  the  body.  He  has  been 
straightforwardness  itself :  he  has  told  us  everything." 

"Did  he  tell  you  I  was  there  ?" 

"No;  he  has  not  mentioned  your  name.  Perhaps 
he  didn't  see  you." 

"We  were  in  the  house  together,  and  I  was  with 
him  when  he  went  upstairs  and  discovered  the  body." 

"He  has  said  nothing  about  this,"  said  the  sergeant 
impressively.  "His  conduct  is  very  strange  in  that 
respect." 

"I  am  afraid  I  am  to  blame  for  that,"  she  said. 
"As  he  walked  home  with  me  from  the  farm  on  his 
way  to  the  police  station  I  asked  him  if  he  would  mind 
saying  nothing  about  my  presence  at  the  house.  I 
told  him  that  I  was  anxious  to  avoid  all  the  worry  and 
unpleasantness  I  should  have  to  put  up  with  if  it  was 
publicly  known  that  I  had  been  there.  He  readily 
agreed  not  to  mention  my  name.  I  thought  at  the 
time  that  it  was  very  kind  of  him,  but  in  thinking 
it  all  over  since  I  am  convinced  that  I  did  wrong.  I 
have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  it  was  a  very  extra- 
ordinary thing  for  him  to  agree  to  as  he  did,  not 
knowing  me — we  had  never  met  before.  I  felt  that 
the  right  thing  to  do  was  to  come  to  you  and  tell 
you  all  I  know  so  that  you  can  compare  it  with  what 


172      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

Mr.  Marsland  has  told  you.  In  that  way  you  will 
be  able  to  make  fuller  inquiries,  and  to  acquit  him 
of  any  sinister  motive  in  his  kind  offer  to  me  to  keep 
my  name  out  of  it." 

The  sergeant  nodded  his  head  slowly.  There  was 
much  to  take  in,  and  he  was  not  a  rapid  thinker. 

"Any  sinister  motive?"  he  repeated  after  a  long 
pause. 

"Of  course  I  don't  wish  to  cast  any  suspicions  on 
Mr.  Marsland,"  she  said  looking  at  the  police  officer 
steadily.  "But  it  has  already  occurred  to  you,  Ser- 
geant, that  Mr.  Marsland,  in  kindly  keeping  my  name 
out  of  it,  had  to  depart  from  the  truth  in  the  story 
he  told  you  about  his  presence  at  Cliff  Farm,  and 
that  he  may  have  thought  it  advisable  to  depart  from 
the  truth  in  some  other  particulars  as  well." 

The  sergeant's  mental  process  would  not  have  car- 
ried him  that  far  without  assistance,  but  there  was  no 
conscious  indication  of  assistance  in  the  emphasis  with 
which  he  said: 

"I  see  that." 

"Let  me  tell  you  exactly  what  happened  so  far  as 
I  am  concerned,"  she  went  on. 

"Yes,  certainly."  He  sat  down  in  his  chair  and 
vaguely  seized  his  pen.  "I'll  write  it  down,  Miss 
Maynard,  and  get  you  to  sign  it.  Don't  go  too  fast 
for  me ;  and  it  will  be  better  for  you  if  you  take  time 
— you  will  be  able  to  think  it  over  as  you  go  along. 
This  promises  to  be  most  important.  Detective  Gillett 
of  Scotland  Yard  will  be  anxious  to  see  it.  I  am  sorry 
he's  not  here  now;  he  has  been  recalled  to  London, 
but  I  expect  him  down  again  to-morrow." 

"On  Friday,  the  night  of  the  storm,  I  left  my  house 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      173 

about  dusk — that  would  be  after  five  o'clock — with 
the  intention  of  taking  a  walk,"  she  began.  "I  walked 
along  the  downs  in  the  direction  of  Cliff  Farm,  in- 
tending to  return  along  the  sands  from  the  cliff  path- 
way. I  was  on  the  downs  when  the  storm  began  to 
gather.  I  thought  of  retracing  my  steps,  but  the  storm 
gathered  so  swiftly  and  blew  so  fiercely  that  I  was 
compelled  to  seek  shelter  in  the  only  house  for  miles 
around — Cliff  Farm. 

"The  wind  was  blowing  hard  and  big  drops  of  rain 
were  falling  when  I  reached  the  door.  I  knocked,  but 
received  no  answer.  Then  I  noticed  that  the  key  was 
in  the  door.  Owing  to  the  darkness,  which  had  come 
on  rapidly  with  the  storm,  I  had  not  seen  it  at  first. 
The  door  had  a  Yale  lock  and  the  key  turned  very 
easily.  I  was  wearing  light  gloves,  and  when  I  turned 
the  key  in  the  lock  I  noticed  it  was  sticky.  I  looked 
at  my  glove  and  saw  a  red  stain — it  was  blood." 

"Ah!"  interrupted  Sergeant  Westaway.  "A  red 
stain — blood  ?  Just  wait  a  minute  while  I  catch  up  to 
you." 

"I  was  slightly  alarmed  at  that,"  she  continued, 
after  a  pause;  "but  I  had  no  suspicion  that  a  cruel 
murder  had  been  committed.  In  my  alarm  I  took  the 
key  out  of  the  lock  and  closed  the  door.  I  felt  safer 
with  the  door  locked  against  any  possible  intruder.  I 
went  into  the  sitting-room  and  sat  down,  after  lighting 
a  candle  that  I  found  on  the  hallstand.  Then  it 
occurred  to  me  that  Mr  Lumsden  might  have  left  the 
key  in  the  door  while  he  went  to  one  of  the  outbuild- 
ings to  do  some  work.  The  blood  might  have  got  on 
it  from  a  small  cut  on  his  hand." 


174      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

"What  did  you  do  with  the  key?"  asked  the  Ser- 
geant. 

"I  brought  it  with  me  here."  She  opened  her  bag 
and  handed  a  key  to  the  police  officer. 

Sergeant  Westaway  looked  at  it  closely.  Inside  the 
hole  made  for  the  purpose  of  placing  the  key  on  a 
ring  he  saw  a  slight  stain  of  dried  blood.  He  nodded 
to  Miss  Maynard  and  she  continued  her  story. 

"I  felt  more  at  ease  then,  and  when  I  heard  a  knock 
at  the  door  I  felt  sure  it  was  he — that  he  had  seen  the 
light  of  the  candle  through  the  window  and  knew  that 
whoever  had  taken  the  key  had  entered  the  house.  I 
opened  the  door,  but  it  was  not  Mr.  Lumsden  I  saw, 
but  Mr.  Marsland.  He  said  something  about  wanting 
shelter  from  the  storm — that  his  horse  had  gone  lame. 
He  came  inside  and  sat  down.  I  told  him  that  I,  too, 
had  sought  shelter  from  the  storm  and  that  I  supposed 
Mr.  Lumsden,  the  owner  of  the  house,  was  in  one  of 
the  outbuildings  attending  to  the  animals.  I  saw  that 
he  was  watching  me  closely  and  I  felt  uneasy.  Then 
I  saw  him  put  his  hand  to  the  upper  pocket  of  his 
waistcoat." 

"What  was  that  for?"  asked  the  sergeant. 

"I  think  he  must  have  lost  a  pair  of  glasses  and 
temporarily  forgotten  that  they  were  gone.  He  was 
not  wearing  glasses  when  I  saw  him  but  I  have  noticed 
since  that  he  does  wear  them." 

"I've  noticed  the  same  thing,"  said  the  sergeant. 
"He  was  not  wearing  glasses  the  night  he  came  here 
to  report  the  discovery  of  Mr.  Lumsden's  body — I 
am  sure  of  that." 

Miss  Maynard,  on  resuming  her  narrative,  told  how 
Mr.  Marsland  and  she,  hearing  a  crash  in  one  of 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      175 

the  rooms  overhead,  went  upstairs  to  investigate  and 
found  the  dead  body  of  the  victim  sitting  in  an  arm- 
chair. When  she  realized  that  a  dreadful  crime  had 
been  committed  she  ran  out  of  the  house  in  terror. 
She  waited  in  the  path  for  Mr.  Marsland  and  he  was 
kind  enough  to  escort  her  home.  It  was  because  she 
was  so  unnerved  by  the  tragedy  that  she  had  asked 
Mr.  Marsland  to  keep  her  name  out  of  it  not  to  tell 
any  one  that  she  had  taken  shelter  at  the  farm.  It 
was  a  dreadful  experience  and  she  wanted  to  try  and 
forget  all  about  it.  But  now  she  realized  that  she  had 
done  wrong  and  that  she  should  have  come  to  the 
police  station  with  Mr.  Marsland  and  told  what  she 
knew. 

"That  is  quite  right,  Miss  Maynard,"  said  the  ser- 
geant, as  he  finished  writing  down  her  statement. 
"Does  Mr.  Marsland  know  that  you  have  come  here 
to-day  with  the  intention  of  making  a  statement?" 

"No;  he  does  not,  and  for  that  reason  I  feel  that 
I  am  not  treating  him  fairly  after  he  was  so  kind 
in  consenting  to  keep  my  name  out  of  it." 

The  sergeant  had  but  a  limited  view  of  moral  ethics 
where  they  conflicted  with  the  interests  of  the  police. 

"He  should  not  have  kept  your  name  from  me," 
he  said.  "But,  apart  from  what  you  have  told  me, 
have  you  any  reason  for  suspecting  that  Mr.  Marsland 
had  anything  to  do  with  the  murder  of  Frank  Lums- 
den?" 

"That  it  was  he  who  left  the  key  in  the  door?" 

"Well— yes." 

"If  that  is  the  case,  his  object  in  leaving  the  house 
for  a  few  minutes  might  be  to  destroy  traces  of  his 


176      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

guilt.  But  I  saw  nothing  of  a  suspicious  nature  in  his 
manner  after  I  admitted  him  to  the  house." 

The  sergeant  was  impressed  with  the  closeness  of 
her  reasoning — it  seemed  to  shed  more  light.  Clearly 
she  had  given  the  matter  the  fullest  consideration  be- 
fore deciding  to  make  a  statement. 

She  added  with  a  slight  laugh : 

"You  cannot  call  his  action  in  feeling  for  a  missing 
pair  of  glasses  suspicious  ?" 

"No,  no,"  said  the  sergeant  generously.  "We  can 
scarcely  call  that  suspicious." 

"What  I  do  regard  as  suspicious — or,  at  any  rate, 
as  wanting  in  straightforwardness — is  the  fact  that  Mr. 
Marsland  did  not  tell  me  that  he  knew  Mr.  Lumsden 
in  France.  They  were  both  in  the  London  Rifle 
Brigade — Mr.  Marsland  was  a  captain  and  Mr.  Lums- 
den a  private." 

"Where  did  you  learn  this,  Miss  Maynard?"  was 
the  excited  question.  "Are  you  sure?" 

"Hasn't  he  told  the  police?"  she  asked  in  a  tone  of 
astonishment.  "Then  perhaps  it  is  not  true." 

"Where  did  you  hear  it?" 

"In  Staveley.  I  was  talking  to  a  wounded  officer 
there  on  the  front — Mr.  Blake.  He  knew  Mr.  Mars- 
land  as  Captain  Marsland  and  he  knew  Mr.  Lumsden 
as  well.  I  think  he  said  poor  Mr.  Lumsden  had  been 
Captain  Marsland's  orderly  for  a  time." 

"I  must  look  into  this,"  said  Sergeant  Westaway. 

"Unfortunately  Mr.  Blake  has  returned  to  the  front. 
He  left  Staveley  yesterday." 

"No  matter.  There  are  other  ways  of  getting  at 
the  truth,  Miss  Maynard.  As  I  said,  Detective  Gillett 
will  be  down  here  to-morrow  and  I'll  show  him  your 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      177 

statement.  He  will  probably  want  to  interview  you 
himself  and  in  that  case  I'll  send  for  you.  But  don't 
you  be  alarmed — he's  a  nice  gentlemanly  young  fellow 
and  knows  how  to  treat  a  lady." 

He  was  about  to  bow  her  out  of  the  station  when 
he  suddenly  remembered  that  she  had  not  signed  her 
statement. 

"Would  you  please  read  through  this  and  sign  it?" 
he  asked.  "A  very  important  statement — clear  and 
concise.  I  feel  I  must  congratulate  you  about  it,  Miss 
Maynard." 

She  read  through  the  sergeant's  summary  of  her 
narrative,  but  was  unable  to  congratulate  him  on  the 
way  in  which  he  had  done  his  work.  She  felt  that  the 
statement  she  and  her  lover  had  compiled,  to  guide 
her  in  her  narrative  to  the  police,  was  a  far  more 
comprehensive  document. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

Miss  MAYNARD'S  statement  made  such  an  impression 
on  Sergeant  Westaway  that  he  determined  to  ride  over 
to  Staveley  that  afternoon  and  lay  it  before  Inspector 
Murchison.  He  was  so  restless  and  excited  at  the  new 
phase  of  the  Cliff  Farm  murder  which  had  been 
opened  up  by  the  young  lady's  revelations  that  he 
decided  the  matter  was  too  important  to  be  allowed 
to  remain  where  it  was  until  Detective  Gillett  returned 
to  Ashlingsea  on  the  following  day. 

Besides,  twenty-five  years'  rustication  in  Ashlingsea 
had  made  him  so  much  of  an  idealist  that  he  actually 
believed  that  any  zealous  activity  he  displayed  in  the 
only  great  crime  which  had  ever  happened  during  his 
long  regime  at  Ashlingsea  would  be  placed  to  his 
credit  in  the  official  quarters. 

After  a  midday  dinner  Sergeant  Westaway  wheeled 
forth  his  bicycle  and,  having  handed  over  to  Constable 
Heather  the  official  responsibility  of  maintaining  order 
in  Ashlingsea,  pedalled  away  along  the  cliff  road  to 
Staveley.  The  road  was  level  for  the  greater  part  of 
the  way  and  he  reached  Staveley  in  a  little  more  than 
an  hour  of  the  time  of  his  departure  from  Ashlingsea. 

Several  persons — mostly  women — were  in  the  front 
office  of  the  police  station,  waiting  their  turn  to  lay 
their  troubles  before  the  recognized  guide  and  confidant 
of  Staveley,  but  the  constable  in  charge,  who  knew 
Sergeant  Westaway,  deferred  to  his  official  position 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      179 

by  taking  him  straight  into  the  presence  of  Inspector 
Murchison  and  dosing  the  door  behind  him. 

The  inspector  was  seated  in  his  office  chair  talking 
earnestly  to  a  shabby  young  woman  who  carried  a 
baby,  and  was  crying  bitterly.  He  looked  up  as  West- 
away  entered,  and  then  he  rose  from  his  chair,  as  an 
intimation  to  the  young  woman  in  front  of  him  that 
he  had  given  her  as  much  of  the  Government's  time 
as  she  had  a  right  to  expect.  The  young  woman  took 
the  hint,  rose  to  her  feet  and  turned  to  go.  On  her 
way  to  the  door  she  turned  round  and  said  in  a  plead- 
ing voice: 

"You'll  do  the  best  you  can  to  get  him  back,  won't 
you,  sir?" 

"You  can  rely  on  me,  Mrs.  Richards,"  responded  the 
inspector,  adding  cheerily:  "Keep  your  heart  up; 
things  are  bound  to  come  right  in  the  end." 

The  young  woman  received  this  philosophic  remark 
with  a  sob  as  she  closed  the  door  behind  her. 

"A  very  sad  case,  that,"  said  Inspector  Murchison 
to  Sergeant  Westaway. 

"Eh — yes?"  responded  the  sergeant  absently,  for  he 
was  thinking  of  other  things. 

"She's  Fanny  Richards,  the  wife  of  Tom  Richards, 
the  saddler's  son,"  continued  the  inspector.  "I've 
known  her  since  she  was  that  high.  Tom  Richards 
was  called  up  for  service  a  little  while  ago,  and  his 
wife  moved  heaven  and  earth  to  get  him  exempted. 
She  went  to  the  right  quarters  too — she  used  to  be 
housemaid  there — but  perhaps  I'd  better  not  mention 
names.  At  all  events,  the  tribunal  gave  her  husband 
total  exemption.  And  what  does  her  husband  do? 
Is  he  grateful?  Not  a  bit!  Two  days  after  the 


i8o      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

tribunal  had  exempted  him  the  scoundrel  cleared  out 
— disappeared  from  the  district  with  a  chambermaid 
from  one  of  the  hotels  on  the  front.  I  tell  you,  West- 
away,  the  ingratitude  of  some  of  our  sex  to  the  women 
they  have  sworn  to  love  and  cherish  makes  me  angry. 
But,  however,  you  haven't  come  from  Ashlingsea  to 
discuss  the  failings  of  human  nature  with  me.  What 
can  I  do  for  you?" 

Before  leaving  Ashlingsea,  Sergeant  Westaway  had 
withdrawn  Miss  Maynard's  statement  from  its  official 
repository,  and  placed  it  carefully  in  his  pocket-book. 
His  hand  wandered  towards  his  breast  pocket  as  he 
replied  that  his  visit  to  Staveley  was  connected  with 
the  Cliff  Farm  case. 

"And  what  is  the  latest  news  about  that  ?"  asked  the 
inspector  with  interest. 

It  was  the  moment  for  Sergeant  Westaway's  tri- 
umph, and  he  slowly  drew  his  pocket-book  from  his 
breast  pocket  and  extracted  the  statement. 

"I  have  made  an  important  discovery,"  he  an- 
nounced, in  a  voice  which  he  vainly  strove  to  keep 
officially  calm.  "It  affects  a — well-known  and  leading 
gentleman  of  your  district.  This  paper" — he  flattened 
it  out  on  the  table  with  a  trembling  hand — "is  a  state- 
ment made  by  Miss  Maynard  of  Ashlingsea,  which 
implicates  Mr.  Marsland,  the  nephew  of  Sir  George 
Granville." 

"In  the  Cliff  Farm  case?" 

Sergeant  Westaway  nodded  portentously,  and  wiped 
the  perspiration  from  his  forehead — for  the  office  fire 
was  hot  and  he  had  ridden  fast. 

Inspector  Murchison  took  up  the  girl's  statement, 
and  read  it  through.  When  he  had  finished  it,  he 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      181 

turned  to  the  front  page,  and  read  it  through  again. 
Then  he  glanced  up  at  his  colleague  gravely. 

"This  is  very  important,"  he  said.  "It  throws  a  new 
aspect  on  the  case." 

Sergeant  Westaway  nodded. 

"This  girl,"  pursued  Inspector  Murchison,  "she  is 
of  fairly  good  position,  is  she  not?" 

Sergeant  Westaway  nodded  again. 

"Her  mother  is  a  lady  of  independent  means." 

"I've  heard  of  them,  and  I've  seen  the  young  lady 
and  her  mother  once  or  twice  when  they've  visited 
Staveley.  Do  you  think  the  young  lady  is  telling  the 
whole  truth  here?" 

"Undoubtedly."  Sergeant  Westaway's  tone  indi- 
cated that  when  a  member  of  the  leading  family  of 
Ashlingsea  set  out  to  tell  the  truth  nothing  was  kept 
back. 

The  inspector  got  up  from  his  chair  and  took  a  fevf 
turns  up  and  down  the  office  in  a  meditative  way. 

"It's  a  most  extraordinary  disclosure  that  this  young 
woman  has  made,"  he  said  at  length.  "Extraordinary 
— and  awkward.  I  do  not  know  what  Sir  George 
Granville  will  say  when  he  learns  that  his  nephew, 
instead  of  assisting  the  police,  made  a  false  and  mis- 
leading statement.  It  is  a  very  grave  thing;  a  very 
dangerous  thing  in  such  a  grave  crime  as  this.  It  will 
give  Sir  George  Granville  a  dreadful  shock." 

"It  gave  me  a  shock,"  said  Sergeant  Westaway. 

"No  doubt,"  replied  the  inspector.  "But  Sir  George 
Granville — is  a  different  matter.  We  must  consider 
his  feelings;  we  must  try  to  spare  them.  I  hardly 
know  what  is  best  to  be  done.  Obviously,  the  matter 
cannot  be  allowed  to  remain  where  it  is,  yet  it  is  diffi- 


182      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

cult  to  see  what  is  the  proper  course  of  action  to 
pursue.  I  think  the  best  thing  will  be  to  wait  until 
Gillett  returns  from  London  and  leave  it  to  him. 
When  do  you  expect  him  back  ?" 

"I  expect  him  back  in  the  morning.  I  wired  to  him 
that  I  had  obtained  most  important  information." 

"I'll  be  at  the  station  when  the  London  express 
comes  in  in  the  morning.  If  Gillett  is  on  board  I'll  go 
on  with  him  to  Ashlingsea." 

In  accordance  with  this  arrangement,  Inspector 
Murchison  arrived  at  Ashlingsea  in  the  morning,  in 
the  company  of  Detective  Gillett. 

If  Sergeant  Westaway  expected  praise  from  the 
representative  of  Scotland  Yard  it  was  not  forth- 
coming. Detective  Gillett  seemed  in  a  peevish  humour. 
His  boyish  face  looked  tired  and  careworn,  and  his 
blue  eyes  were  clouded. 

"Let  me  have  a  look  at  this  statement  that  you  are 
making  such  a  fuss  about,"  he  said. 

Long  afterwards,  when  Sergeant  Westaway  had 
ample  leisure  to  go  over  all  the  events  in  connection 
with  the  Cliff  Farm  case,  he  alighted  on  the  con- 
viction that  the  reason  Detective  Gillett  was  so  offens- 
ive and  abrupt  in  regard  to  Miss  Maynard's  state- 
ment was  that  he  did  not  like  important  information 
to  reach  the  police  while  he  was  absent. 

"It  is  a  voluntary  and  signed  statement  by  Miss 
Maynard,  a  young  lady  of  the  district,  who  was  at 
Cliff  Farm  the  night  of  the  murder,"  said  the  sergeant, 
with  dignity. 

"So  much  I  know  from  Inspector  Murchison,  and 
also  that  the  statement  in  some  way  implicates  young 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      183 

what's  his  name — Marsland.  Let  me  have  the  docu- 
ment itself,  Westaway." 

The  sergeant  took  it  from  his  desk,  and  placed  it 
in  Detective  Gillett's  hands. 

"I  have  added  on  a  separate  sheet  of  paper  a  few 
notes  I  gathered  in  the  course  of  conversation  with 
Miss  Maynard.  The  most  important  of  them  deals 
with  the  fact  that  young  Marsland  was  a  captain  in 
the  Army,  and  that  Lumsden  was  under  his  command 
in  France." 

Gillett  began  with  an  air  of  official  weariness  to 
read  the  document  Westaway  had  handed  to  him,  but 
before  he  had  read  far  the  abstraction  vanished  from 
his  face,  and  was  replaced  by  keen  professional  inter- 
est. He  read  it  closely  and  carefully,  and  then  he  pro- 
duced his  pocket-book  and  stowed  it  away. 

"Westaway,"  he  said,  "this  is  a  somewhat  important 
contribution  to  the  case."  He  paused  for  a  moment 
and  then  turned  sharply  on  Inspector  Murchison.  "I 
think  you  should  have  told  me,  Murchison,  how  dam- 
aging a  piece  of  evidence  this  is  against  young  Mars- 
land." 

"Not  so  damaging,"  said  the  inspector,  in  defence. 
"You  see,  young  Marsland  is  Sir  George  Granville's 
nephew " 

"So  you  told  me  half  a  dozen  times  in  the  train," 
said  Gillett,  "and  as  I  knew  it  before  I  wasn't  much 
impressed  with  the  information.  What  I  say  is  that 
this  statement  places  Marsland  in  a  very  awkward 
position.  He  has  been  deceiving  us  from  first  to  last." 

"I  admit  it  is  very  thoughtless — very  foolish  of 
him,"  replied  the  inspector.  "But  surely,  Gillett,  you 


184      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

don't  think  this  young  gentleman  had  anything  to  do 
with  the  murder  ?" 

"I  am  not  going  to  be  so  foolish  as  to  say  that  it 
could  not  possibly  be  him  who  did  it.  What  does 
he  mean  by  hiding  from  us  the  fact  that  Lumsden 
was  under  his  command  in  France,  and  that  on  the 
night  of  the  murder  he  met  this  girl  Maynard  at  the 
farm.  He  seems  to  be  a  young  gentleman  who  keeps 
back  a  great  deal  that  the  police  ought  to  know. 
And  I  think  you  will  admit,  Murchison,  that  in  that 
respect  he  is  behaving  like  a  very  guilty  man." 

"But  there  may  be  other  explanations  which  will 
place  his  conduct  in  a  reasonable  light — reasonable  but 
foolish,"  said  the  inspector,  with  an  earnest  disregard 
for  the  way  in  which  these  words  contradicted  each 
other.  "Sir  George  Granville  himself  told  me  his 
nephew  was  an  officer  in  the  Army,  but  on  account  of 
his  nervous  breakdown  the  Army  was  never  mentioned 
in  his  presence.  And  as  for  keeping  Miss  Maynard's 
name  out  of  his  statement  after  she  had  asked  him  to 
do  so — why  it  seems  to  me  the  sort  of  thing  that  any 
young  man  would  do  for  a  pretty  girl." 

"Especially  if  it  played  into  his  hands.  If  Mars- 
land  committed  the  crime,  he  must  have  jumped  at  the 
chance  offered  him  by  Miss  Maynard  to  keep  silence 
about  her  presence  at  the  farm,  because  that  left  him 
a  free  hand  in  the  statement  he  made  to  Westaway. 
He  had  no  need  to  be  careful  about  any  part  of  his 
statement,  because  he  had  not  to  harmonize  any  of  it 
with  what  she  knew  about  his  presence  there." 

"And  what  are  you  going  to  do  about  her  state- 
ment ?"  asked  the  inspector.  "You  will  confront  Mars- 
land  with  it  ?" 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      185 

"Yes,  but  before  I  do  that  I  am  going  to  make  a 
search  of  the  farm  for  clues." 

"But  you  have  already  done  that.  Westaway  told 
me  that  he  and  Heather  put  in  two  days  searching  the 
buildings  and  the  ground  round  the  house." 

"Inspector,  you  are  not  quite  equal  to  the  demands 
of  the  situation,"  said  the  Scotland  Yard  man  patron- 
izingly. "Westaway,  myself  and  Heather  searched 
the  house,  the  out-buildings  and  the  grounds  for  clues 
— for  traces  left  behind  unwittingly  by  the  murderer. 
Our  impression  then  was  that  the  murderer  had  got 
away  as  soon  as  he  could — everything  pointed  to  that. 
But  in  the  light  of  this  girl's  statement  we  must  now 
search  for  clues  purposely  hidden  by  the  murderer. 
What  was  Marsland  doing  when  he  went  outside  the 
house  and  left  the  key  in  the  door  so  as  to  let  him- 
self in  again?  Hiding  something,  of  course!  And 
where  would  he  hide  it? 

"There  is  only  one  place  we  haven't  searched,  and 
that  is  the  well,"  continued  Gillett.  "The  reason  I 
didn't  have  it  emptied  before  was  because  I  was  not 
looking  for  hidden  traces — the  circumstances  of  the 
crime  suggested  that  the  murderer  had  gone  off  with 
the  weapon  that  ended  Lumsden's  life.  But  this  girl's 
statement  showed  that  Marsland  went  out  of  the  house 
and  came  back.  What  was  he  doing  while  he  was  out- 
side ?  This  is  what  I  am  going  to  find  out." 

"I'll  go  up  to  the  farm  with  you,"  said  the  inspector. 
"I  want  to  see  what  comes  of  this.  I  want  to  know 
what  I've  got  to  say  to  Sir  George  Granville." 

"You've  got  to  say  nothing;  you  leave  it  to  me," 
said  Detective  Gillett.  "How  long  will  it  take  to  get 
the  well  emptied,  Westaway?" 


j86      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

"Four  or  five  hours  ought  to  be  long  enough,  if  I 
can  get  a  couple  of  good  men,"  said  the  sergeant. 

"See  about  it  at  once.  Send  Heather  up  with  the 
men  to  superintend.  We  will  drive  out  there  this 
afternoon.  I  have  some  inquiries  to  make  in  the  village 
this  morning,  and  I  must  also  see  Miss  Maynard." 

Gillett,  after  interviewing  Miss  Maynard  and  hav- 
ing his  lunch  with  Inspector  Murchison  at  The  Black- 
Horned  Sheep,  got  into  an  antiquated  hooded  vehicle, 
drawn  by  a  venerable  white  horse,  which  Sergeant 
Westaway  hired  at  the  inn  to  take  them  to  Cliff  Farm. 
The  innkeeper,  who,  like  all  the  rest  of  the  town,  was 
bursting  with  curiosity  to  learn  the  latest  developments 
in  the  case,  had  eagerly  volunteered  to  drive  the  police 
officers  up  to  the  farm,  but  Sergeant  Westaway,  de- 
termined that  village  gossip  should  learn  nothing 
through  him,  had  resolutely  declined  the  offer,  and 
drove  the  equipage  himself.  They  set  off  with  half  the 
village  gaping  at  them  from  their  doors. 

Sergeant  Westaway  had  intended  to  ask  Detective 
Gillett  for  details  concerning  his  interview  with  Miss 
Maynard,  but  he  found  that  the  sluggish  and  ancient 
quadruped  between  the  shafts  needed  incessant  urg- 
ing and  rein-jerking  to  keep  him  moving  at  all.  This 
gave  him  no  time  for  conversation  with  the  detective, 
who  was  seated  in  the  back  of  the  vehicle  with  In- 
spector Murchison. 

When  they  reached  Cliff  Farm  Sergeant  Westaway 
found  another  problem  to  engage  his  attention. 
A  number  of  Ashlingsea  people  had  been  impelled  by 
curiosity  to  take  a  hand  in  the  pumping  operations, 
until  tiring  of  that  mechanical  labour,  they  had  dis 
tributed  themselves  around  the  farm,  strolling  about, 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      187 

gazing  vacantly  at  the  farm  buildings,  or  peering 
through  the  windows  of  the  house.  Constable 
Heather,  who  had  been  sent  up  with  the  fishermen 
in  order  that  constituted  authority  might  be  repre- 
sented in  the  pumping  proceedings,  frankly  admitted 
to  his  superior  officer  that  he  had  been  unable  to  keep 
the  curious  spectators  away  from  the  scene. 

On  hearing  this,  Sergeant  Westaway  jumped  from 
the  vehicle,  and  strode  into  the  farmyard  with  a  stern 
authority  which  had  never  been  weakened  by  convivial 
friendship  at  The  Black-Horned  Sheep.  It  says  much 
for  the  inherent  rural  respect  for  law  and  order  that 
he  was  able  to  turn  out  the  intruders  in  less  than 
five  minutes,  although  the  majority  of  them  lingered 
reluctantly  outside  the  front  fence,  and  watched  the 
proceedings  from  a  distance. 

The  two  fishermen  whom  Constable  Heather  had 
engaged  for  the  task  of  emptying  the  well  had,  with 
the  ingenuity  which  distinguishes  those  who  make  their 
living  on  the  sea,  reduced  the  undertaking  to  its 
simplest  elements.  A  light  trench  had  been  dug  on 
that  side  of  the  well  where  the  ground  had  a  gentle 
slope,  and,  following  the  lie  of  the  land,  had  been 
continued  until  it  connected  with  one  of  the  main 
drains  of  the  farm.  Therefore,  all  that  remained  for  the 
two  fishermen  to  do  was  to  man  the  pump  in  turns 
till  the  well  was  empty,  the  water  pouring  steadily  into 
the  improvised  trench  and  so  reaching  the  main  drain, 
which  was  carrying  the  water  away  to  the  ditch  be- 
side the  road.  The  originator  of  this  plan  was  an 
elderly  man  with  a  round  red  face,  a  moist  eye,  and 
an  argumentative  manner.  As  the  originator  of  the 
labour-saving  device,  he  had  exercised  the  right  of 


i88      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

superior  intelligence  to  relegate  to  his  companion 
most  of  the  hard  labour  of  carrying  it  out. 

"You  see,"  he  said  to  Inspector  Murchison,  who 
happened  to  be  nearest  to  him,  "Tom  here" — he  indi- 
cated his  assistant — "wanted  to  dig  a  long  trench  to 
yon  hedge  and  carry  the  water  out  into  the  valley, 
but  I  says  'What's  the  use  of  going  to  all  that  trouble 
when  it  can  be  done  a  quicker  way?'  I  says  to  Tom, 
'Let's  put  a  bit  of  gumption  into  it  and  empty  it  the 
easiest  way.  For  once  the  water's  out  of  the  well, 
it  don't  matter  a  dump  where  it  runs,  for  it's  no  good 
to  nobody.' " 

"Very  true,"  said  Inspector  Murchison,  who  be- 
lieved in  being  polite  to  everybody. 

"  Therefore/  says  I  to  Tom,  'it  stands  to  reason 
that  the  quickest  way  to  empty  the  well,  and  the 
way  with  least  trouble  to  ourselves,  will  be  to  cut 
from  here  to  that  there  drain  there.' " 

"How  much  longer  will  you  be  emptying  it?"  de- 
manded Detective  Gillett,  approaching  the  well  and 
interrupting  the  flow  of  the  old  man's  eloquence. 

"That  depends,  sir,  on  what  water  there's  in  it." 

This  reply  was  too  philosophical  to  appeal  to  the 
practical  minded  detective.  He  declared  with  some 
sharpness  that  the  sooner  it  was  emptied  the  better 
it  would  be  for  everybody. 

"We  are  getting  towards  the  bottom  now,  sir," 
said  the  man  at  the  pump,  who  interpreted  the  de- 
tective's words  as  a  promise  that  beer  would  make  its 
appearance  when  the  water  had  gone.  "It  ain't  a  very 
deep  well,  not  more  than  fourteen  feet  at  most,  and 
I  should  say  another  half  hour — maybe  more — would 
see  the  end  of  this  here  job." 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      189- 

"Very  well,  then,  be  as  quick  as  you  can." 

The  three  police  officers  remained  beside  the  well, 
watching  the  pumping.  In  a  little  more  than  half  an 
hour  the  flow  of  water  from  the  mouth  of  the  pump 
began  to  decrease.  Then  the  pump  began  to  gurgle  and 
the  water  stopped.  Suction  had  ceased  and  the  well 
was  practically  empty. 

Under  Detective  Gillett's  instructions  the  men  who 
had  emptied  the  well  removed  the  boards  which  cov- 
ered the  top,  and  one  of  them  went  to  the  barn  and 
returned  with  a  long  ladder.  Between  them  they  low- 
ered the  ladder  into  the  empty  well.  The  ladder  was 
more  than  long  enough  to  reach  the  bottom,  for  the 
top  was  several  feet  above  the  mouth  of  the  well. 

"That  will  do,  men,"  ordered  the  Scotland  Yard 
detective.  He  climbed  to  the  edge  of  the  well  as  he 
spoke. 

"Have  you  a  light?"  asked  Sergeant  Westaway  in 
a  moment  of  inspiration. 

For  reply  Detective  Gillett  displayed  a  powerful 
electric  torch,  and  placed  one  foot  on  the  ladder. 

"Better  take  the  stable  lantern,  sir,"  urged  the  in- 
ventor of  the  well-emptying  plan.  "You'll  find  it 
better  down  there  than  them  new-fangled  lights.  You'll 
be  able  to  see  further  with  a  sensible  lantern." 

"And  you'd  better  put  on  my  boots,"  said  the  other 
fisherman.  "The  well's  a  bricked  'un,  but  it'll  be  main 
wet  and  muddy  down  there." 

Detective  Gillett  pronounced  both  ideas  excellent 
and  acted  on  them.  Sergeant  Westaway  procured  the 
stable  lantern,  and  lighted  it  while  the  detective  drew 
on  the  fisherman's  long  sea  boots.  Thus  equipped,  and 
holding  the  lantern  in  his  right  hand,  with  an  empty 


190      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

bag  over  his  shoulder,  the  Scotland  Yard  man  stepped 
on  to  the  ladder,  and  disappeared  from  view. 
;  Sergeant  Westaway  intimated  to  the  fishermen  who 
had  emptied  the  tank  that  the  work  for  which  they  had 
been  engaged  was  finished;  but  it  was  some  minutes 
before  he  could  make  it  clear  to  their  slow  intellects 
that  their  presence  was  no  longer  required.  When 
they  did  understand,  they  were  very  loath  to  withdraw, 
for  they  had  looked  forward  with  delight  to  seeing  the 
emptied  well  yield  up  some  ghastly  secret — perhaps 
another  murdered  body — and  it  was  only  by  the  exer- 
cise of  much  sternness  that  Sergeant  Westaway  was 
able  to  get  them  away  from  the  scene  by  personally 
escorting  them  off  the  farm  and  locking  the  gate  after 
them. 

He  returned  to  the  well  to  see  Detective  Gillett 
emerging  from  it.  Gillett  was  carrying  the  bag  and  the 
lantern  in  one  hand,  and  it  was  obvious  that  the  bag 
contained  something  heavy.  The  triumphant  face  of 
the  detective,  as  he  emerged  into  the  upper  air,  indi- 
cated that  he  had  made  some  important  discovery. 
He  stepped  off  the  ladder  and  emptied  the  contents  of 
the  bag  on  the  ground.  They  consisted  of  a  heavy 
pair  of  boots,  hobnailed  and  iron-shod,  such  as  are 
worn  by  country  labourers  and  farmers,  and  a  five- 
chambered  revolver.  The  revolver  was  rusty  through 
immersion  in  the  water,  and  the  boots  were  sodden 
and  pulpy  from  the  same  cause. 

Inspector  Murchison  and  Sergeant  Westaway  in- 
spected the  articles  in  silence.  At  length  the  former 
said: 

"This  is  a  very  important  discovery." 

"I  would  direct  your  attention  to  the  fact  that  it  is 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      191 

a  Webley  revolver — one  of  the  two  patterns  approved 
by  the  War  Office  for  Army  officers,"  said  Dective  Gil- 
lett.  "Unless  I  am  much  mistaken  it  is  a  4.5 — that  is 
the  regulation  calibre  for  the  Army.  And  I  have 
discovered  more  than  that !" 

The  police  officers  ceased  looking  at  the  articles  on 
the  ground,  and  directed  their  eyes  to  the  Scotland 
Yard  detective  in  response  to  the  note  of  exultation 
in  his  voice.  In  answer  to  their  look  he  put  his  hand 
into  a  side  pocket  and  withdrew  a  small  article  which 
he  had  wrapped  in  a  handkerchief.  Unrolling  the 
latter  carefully,  he  held  up  for  their  inspection  a  pair 
of  gold-rimmed  eyeglasses* 


CHAPTER  XVII 

"WE  have  evidence,  Captain  Marsland,  that  the 
statement  you  made  to  Sergeant  Westaway  regarding 
your  discovery  of  the  dead  body  of  Frank  Lumsden 
at  Cliff  Farm  on  the  night  of  Friday,  i6th  October,  is 
untrue." 

If  Detective  Gillett  had  expected  the  young  man 
to  display  either  alarm  or  resentment  at  this  state- 
ment he  was  disappointed.  Marsland  made  no  out- 
ward sign  of  astonishment  at  being  addressed  by  his 
military  title  by  the  detective,  or  at  being  accused  of 
having  made  a  false  statement.  With  steady  eyes  he 
met  the  detective's  searching  gaze. 

In  response  to  a  request  telephoned  by  Detective 
Gillett  to  Sir  George  Granville's  house  at  Staveley, 
Marsland  and  Crewe  had  motored  over  to  Ashlingsea 
police  station.  They  had  been  met  on  their  arrival 
by  the  detective  and  Sergeant  Westaway,  and  after  a 
constrained  welcome  had  been  conducted  to  the  Ser- 
geant's inner  room.  The  door  had  been  carefully 
closed,  and  Constable  Heather,  who  was  in  the  outer 
room,  had  been  told  by  his  superior  that  on  no  ac- 
count were  they  to  be  disturbed. 

There  was  such  a  long  pause  after  Detective  Gil- 
lett had  exploded  his  bomb,  that  the  obligation  of  open- 
ing up  the  situation  suggested  itself  to  him. 

"Do  you  deny  that?"  he  asked. 

"I  do  not."  In  a  clear  tone  and  without  any  indica- 
192 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      193 

tion  of  embarrassment  the  young  man  made  his  reply. 

"You  admit  that  your  statement  is  false  ?" 

"I  do." 

"What  was  your  object  in  making  a  false  statement 
to  the  police?" 

"I  am  not  prepared  to  tell  you  at  present." 

"Well,  perhaps  you  know  your  own  business  best, 
Captain  Marsland,  but  I  warn  you  that  you  are  in  a 
very  serious  position.  It  is  for  you  to  decide  whether 
the  truth  will  help  you  or  not." 

"Do  you  intend  to  make  a  charge  against  me  ?" 

Gillett  was  taken  aback  at  this  blunt  question.  He 
had  arranged  the  interview  because  he  believed  he  was 
in  a  position  to  embarrass  the  young  man  with  a  veiled 
threat  of  police  action,  but  the  young  man,  instead  of 
waiting  for  the  threats,  wanted  to  know  if  the  police 
were  prepared  to  act.  But  Detective  Gillett  was  too 
experienced  an  officer  to  display  the  weakness  of  his 
hand. 

"I  intend  to  detain  you  until  I  have  made  further 
inquiries,"  he  said. 

"How  long  will  these  inquiries  take  ?"  asked  Crewe. 

"No  one  knows  better  than  you,  Mr.  Crewe,  that 
it  is  impossible  for  me  to  answer  such  a  question,"  said 
the  Scotland  Yard  man.  "One  thing  leads  to  another 
in  these  cases.  As  Captain  Marsland  shows  no  dispo- 
sition to  help  us,  they  will  take  at  least  three  or  four 
days." 

"But  perhaps  I  can  help  you,"  suggested  Crewe. 

"Well,  I  don't  know  what  evidence  you  have  picked 
up  in  the  course  of  your  investigations,  Mr.  Crewe, 
but  I  can  tell  you  that  Westaway  and  I  have  some  evi- 
dence that  will  startle  you.  Haven't  we,  Westaway  ?" 

o 


194      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

"Very  startling  evidence  indeed,"  said  the  sergeant, 
in  a  proud  official  tone. 

"I  am  glad  of  that,"  said  Crewe.  "Perhaps  the  ad- 
dition of  the  little  I  have  picked  up — that  is  the  addi- 
tion of  whatever  part  of  it  is  new  to  you — will  en- 
able you  to  solve  this  puzzling  crime." 

"Very  likely  indeed,"  said  Gillett.  "There  are  not 
many  links  missing  in  our  chain  of  evidence." 

"I  congratulate  you,"  responded  Crewe.  "There  are 
a  good  many  missing  in  mine." 

Gillett  broke  into  a  laugh  in  which  there  was  a  dis- 
tinct note  of  self-satisfaction. 

"That  is  a  very  candid  admission,  Mr.  Crewe." 

"As  between  you  and  me  why  shouldn't  there  be 
candour?"  said  Crewe.  "But  what  about  my  young 
friend  Marsland  ?  As  it  is  a  case  for  candour  between 
you  and  me,  we  can't  have  him  present.  For  my  part,  I 
should  prefer  that  he  was  present,  but  of  course  that 
is  impossible  from  your  point  of  view.  You  cannot 
go  into  your  case  against  him  in  his  presence." 

"Certainly  not,"  said  Gillett  decisively.  "And  be- 
fore I  produce  my  evidence  to  you,  Mr.  Crewe,  I  must 
have  your  word  of  honour  not  to  tell  a  living  soul, 
not  to  breathe  a  hint  of  it  to  any  one,  least  of  all  to 
Captain  Marsland.  If  you  give  me  your  word  of 
honour  I'll  be  satisfied.  That  is  the  sort  of  reputa- 
tion you  have  at  Scotland  Yard — if  you  want  to 
know." 

"It  is  very  good  of  you  to  talk  that  way,"  replied 
Crewe.  "I  give  you  my  word  of  honour  not  to  speak 
to  any  one  of  what  happens  here,  until  you  give  me 
permission  to  do  so.  Marsland  will  wait  outside  in 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      195 

charge  of  Constable  Heather.  He  will  give  you  his 
word  of  honour  not  to  attempt  to  escape." 

"Is  that  so  ?"  asked  Gillett  of  the  young  man. 

Marsland  nodded,  and  was  handed  over  to  Con- 
stable Heather's  care  by  Sergeant  Westaway.  When 
the  sergeant  returned  he  closed  the  door  carefully. 

"Lock  it,"  said  Gillett.  "And  cover  up  the  key- 
hole; we  don't  want  any  one  peeping  through  at 
what  we've  got  here." 

"I  like  this,"  said  Crewe  with  a  smile.  "I  feel  that 
I  am  behind  the  scenes." 

"As  regards  Captain  Marsland,"  said  Gillett  after 
a  pause,  "I  may  as  well  tell  you,  Mr.  Crewe,  that  I 
don't  want  to  deal  more  harshly  with  him  than  the 
situation  demands — at  this  stage.  Things  may  be 
very  different  a  little  later — it  may  be  outside  my 
power  to  show  him  any  consideration.  But  I  don't 
want  to  detain  him  here — I  don't  want  to  lock  him  up 
if  it  can  be  avoided.  You  know  what  talk  there  would 
be  both  here  and  in  Staveley.  I  am  thinking  of  his 
uncle,  Sir  George  Granville.  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll 
do.  If  he  will  give  me  his  word  of  honour  that  he 
will  not  attempt  to  escape,  and  if  you  and  his  uncle 
will  do  the  same,  I'll  let  him  go  back  to  Staveley  in 
charge  of  Heather.  There  will  be  no  difficulty  in  ex- 
plaining Heather's  presence  there  to  any  friends  of 
Sir  George's.  What  do  you  think  of  it?" 

"Excellent!"  said  Crewe. 

What  was  most  excellent  about  it,  in  the  private 
opinion  of  Crewe,  was  the  ingenious  way  in  which  it 
extricated  Detective  Gillett  from  an  awkward  situa- 
tion. When  he  had  arranged  the  interview  for  the 
purpose  of  frightening  Marsland  with  a  threat  of  de- 


196      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

tention,  he  had  had  this  plan  in  his  mind.  He  had 
not  quite  sufficient  evidence  against  Marsland  to  jus- 
tify him  in  arresting  that  young  man  without  some 
damaging  admissions  on  the  part  of  the  young  man 
himself.  And  the  plan  to  place  him  in  charge  of 
Heather  was  a  technical  escape  from  the  difficulties 
that  surrounded  Marsland's  actual  arrest  at  that  stage ; 
but,  on  the  other  hand,  it  would  appear  in  the  young 
man's  eyes  as  though  he  were  under  arrest  and  this 
was  likely  to  have  an  important  influence  in  getting 
some  sort  of  confession  from  him. 

"Bring  out  those  things,"  said  Dletective  Gillett  to 
Sergeant  Westaway,  and  pointing  to  the  cupboard 
against  the  wall. 

Westaway  produced  a  hand-bag  and  placed  it  on 
the  table.  Gillett  took  a  bunch  of  keys  from  his 
trousers  pocket  and  unlocked  the  bag. 

"First  of  all,  here  is  the  key  of  the  house,"  he  said, 
as  he  held  out  in  the  palm  of  his  hand  the  key  of  a 
Yale  lock.  "As  you  must  have  noticed,  Mr.  Crewe,  the 
front  door  of  the  farmhouse  closes  with  a  modern  Yale 
lock;  the  old  lock  is  broken  and  the  bolt  is  tied  back 
with  a  string.  You  will  notice,  inside  the  hole  for  the 
key  to  go  on  a  ring,  that  there  is  a  stain  of  blood. 
Next,  we  have  a  pair  of  heavy  boots.  These  were 
worn  by  the  man  who  murdered  Frank  Lumsden,  for 
they  correspond  exactly  with  the  plaster  casts  we  took 
of  the  footprints  outside  the  window." 

Westaway,  who  had  opened  the  door  of  the  cup- 
board, placed  on  the  table  near  Crewe  two  plaster 
casts. 

Crewe,  after  returning  the  key  he  had  been  examin- 
ing, compared  the  boots  with  the  plaster  casts. 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      197 

"I  believe  you  are  right,"  he  said,  after  a  pause. 

"Here  we  have  the  bullet  that  was  fired.  As  you 
will  remember,  Mr.  Crewe,  it  went  clean  through 
Lumsden's  body,  and  through  the  window.  But  what 
you  don't  know  is  that  it  struck  a  man  who  was  hid- 
ing in  the  garden  near  the  window.  It  struck  him  in 
the  left  arm." 

"Who  was  this  man?"  asked  Crewe. 

"His  name  is  Tom  Jauncey.  He  is  the  son  of  an 
old  shepherd  who  worked  for  Lumsden's  grandfather." 

"One  of  the  servants  who  was  left  a  legacy  in  the 
old  man's  will?"  said  Crewe  inquiringly. 

"That  is  correct,"  replied  Gillett.  "From  the  bul- 
let we  go  to  the  weapon  that  fired  it.  Here  it  is — an 
ordinary  Webley  revolver  such  as  is  issued  to  army 
officers,  Mr.  Crewe." 

"Yes,  I  know  a  little  about  them,"  said  Crewe,  as 
he  took  it  in  his  hands  to  look  at  it. 

"And,  last  of  all,  here  is  a  pair  of  glasses  which 
we  have  ascertained  came  from  the  well-known  optical 
firm  of  Baker  &  Co.,  who  have  branches  all  over  Lon- 
don, and  were  made  for  Captain  Marsland." 

"Where  did  you  find  them  ?"  asked  Crewe. 

"In  the  well  at  the  farm." 

"How  did  they  get  there  ?" 

"I  don't  think  it  is  an  unnatural  assumption  that 
they  were  blown  off  when  the  wearer  was  stooping 
over  the  well  to  drop  some  articles  into  it.  Remember 
that  there  was  a  big  storm  and  a  high  wind  on  the 
night  of  the  murder.  The  boots  and  the  revolver  we 
also  found  in  the  well.  Our  theory  is  that  the  mur- 
derer dropped  these  things  into  the  well  in  order  to 
get  rid  of  them,  and  that  while  he  was  doing  it  his 


198      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

glasses  were  blown  into  the  well.  As  you  know, 
Marsland  wears  glasses — he  is  wearing  them  now.  But 
Sergeant  Westaway  will  swear  that  he  was  not  wear- 
ing them  when  he  came  to  the  station  to  report  the 
discovery  of  the  body.  We  have  other  interesting  evi- 
dence in  the  same  direction,  but  let  that  go  for  the 
present." 

"But  the  boots,"  said  Crewe.  "You  don't  pretend 
that  they  belong  to  Marsland?" 

"They  probably  belonged  to  the  murdered  man — that 
is  a  point  which  we  have  not  yet  settled." 

"And  how  does  that  fit  in  with  your  theory  that 
the  murderer  broke  into  the  house?" 

"The  murderer  found  these  boots  in  the  barn,  the 
cowshed,  or  one  of  the  other  outbuildings.  Lumsden 
did  not  wear  such  heavy  boots  habitually — remember 
that  he  had  been  a  clerk,  not  a  farmer.  But  he  would 
want  a  heavy  pair  of  boots  like  these  for  walking 
about  the  farm-yard  in  wet  weather,  and  probably 
he  kept  them  in  one  of  the  outbuildings,  or  at  any 
rate  left  them  there  on  the  last  occasion  he  wore 
them.  The  intending  murderer,  prowling  about  the 
outbuildings  before  breaking  into  the  house,  found 
these  boots,  and  with  the  object  of  hiding  his  traces 
put  them  on.  After  he  had  finished  with  them  he 
put  on  his  own  boots  and  threw  these  down  the 
well." 

"And  your  theory  is  that  Marsland  is  the  mur- 
derer?" 

"I  don't  say  that  our  case  against  him  is  quite  com- 
plete yet,  but  the  evidence  against  him  is  very  strong." 

"Can  you  suggest  any  motive  ?" 

"Yes,  Marsland  was  a  captain  in  the  London  Rifle 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      199 

Brigade;  Lumsden  was  a  private  in  the  same  bat- 
talion. They  served  together  in  France." 

"But  the  motive  ?"  asked  Crewe. 

"Our  information  is  that  Lumsden  and  a  man 
against  whom  Captain  Marsland  had  a  personal 
grudge — a  man  whom  it  was  his  interest  to  get  out 
of  the  way — were  sent  by  Captain  Marsland  on  a  false 
mission  towards  the  German  lines.  Marsland  ex- 
pected that  both  would  fall  victims  to  the  Germans. 
Lumsden's  companion  was  killed,  but  Lumsden  was 
captured  alive  and  subsequently  escaped.  What  is 
more  likely  than  that  Marsland,  riding  across  the 
downs,  should  call  in  at  Cliff  Farm  when  his  horse 
fell  lame.  There,  to  his  surprise,  he  found  that  Lums- 
den was  the  owner  of  the  farm.  They  talked  over 
old  times,  and  Marsland  learned  that  Lumsden  was 
aware  of  his  secret  motive  in  sending  them  on  such 
a  dangerous  mission.  Marsland  took  his  leave,  but 
determined  to  put  Lumsden  out  of  the  way.  He  stole 
back  and  hid  in  the  outbuildings,  broke  into  the  house, 
and  shot  the  man  who  could  expose  him." 

"A  very  ingenious  piece  of  work,"  said  Crewe. 
"Everything  dovetails  in." 

"I  am  glad  you  agree  with  it,"  said  Gillett. 

"But  I  don't,"  was  the  unexpected  reply.  "Lums- 
den was  not  murdered  at  the  farm.  He  was  shot  in 
the  open,  somewhere  between  Staveley  and  Ashlingsea, 
and  his  dead  body  was  brought  into  the  house  in  a 
motor-car.  It  could  not  have  been  Marsland  who 
brought  the  dead  body  there,  because  he  was  on  horse- 
back, and  his  lamed  horse  was  in  the  stable  at  the 
farm  when  we  were  all  there  next  day." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

"You  are  on  the  wrong  track,  Mr.  Crewe,"  said  Gil- 
lett,  who  was  determined  not  to  part  with  the  theory 
he  had  built  up  round  the  evidence  he  had  collected. 
"I  was  positive  the  murder  took  place  in  the  house. 
This  man  Jauncey,  whom  I  mentioned,  can  swear 
that  he  heard  a  shot  fired.  And  more  than  that,  he 
can  swear  that  he  was  hit  by  the  bullet.  This  is  the 
bullet  that  was  extracted  from  his  wound  in  the  left 
arm.  It  fits  this  revolver." 

"My  dear  Gillett,  I  don't  dispute  any  of  these 
things,"  said  Crewe.  "They  merely  support  my  con- 
tention that  the  murder  was  not  committed  at  the  farm, 
but  that  the  body  was  brought  there,  and  that  the 
man  who  took  the  body  there  took  certain  steps  with 
the  object  of  creating  the  impression  that  the  tragedy 
took  place  in  the  room  in  which  the  body  was  found." 

"What  evidence  have  you  of  that?"  asked  Sergeant 
Westaway,  coming  to  the  aid  of  his  official  superior. 

"The  bullet  that  killed  Lumsden  went  clear  through 
his  body — so  much  was  decided  at  the  post-mortem 
examination,"  Crewe  said.  "But  that  fact  was  also  evi- 
dent from  a  cursory  examination  of  the  body,  as  we 
saw  it  in  the  chair.  You  will  remember  that  I  drew 
attention  to  the  fact  when  we  were  looking  at  the  body. 
Your  theory  is  that  the  shot  was  fired  as  Lumsden  was 
standing  at  the  window,  with  his  back  towards  his 
murderer,  that  the  bullet  went  through  him,  through 

200 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      201 

the  window,  and  lodged  in  the  arm  of  this  man 
Jauncey  who  stated  he  was  outside  in  the  gar- 
den. But  the  course  of  the  bullet  through  Lumsden's 
body  was  slightly  upward.  How  in  that  case  could 
it  strike  downward  and  wound  a  man  on  the  ground 
ten  or  twelve  feet  below  the  windows  on  the  first 
story?" 

"The  bullet  might  have  been  deflected  by  the  glass 
of  the  window,"  said  Gillett. 

"It  might  have  been,  but  it  is  highly  improbabk 
that  ordinary  window-glass  would  deflect  a  bullet — 
even  a  spent  one.  In  any  case  this  bullet  hit  the 
cherry-tree  outside  the  window  before  hitting  Jauncey. 
You  will  find  that  it  cut  the  bark  of  the  cherry-tree — 
the  mark  is  4  ft.  4^  inches  from  the  ground." 

"Then  it  was  the  cherry-tree  that  deflected  it  ?"  said 
Sergeant  Westaway. 

"Yes  and  no,"  said  Crewe.  "Certainly  its  course 
was  deflected  downwards  after  hitting  the  cherry-tree 
— I  assume  that  Jauncey  was  close  to  the  tree.  But 
if  it  had  not  been  travelling  downwards,  it  would  have 
hit  the  tree  much  higher  up — somewhere  near  the 
level  of  the  window.  The  bullet  that  hit  Jauncey  was 
fired  in  the  room  in  which  we  saw  the  body,  but  it 
was  fired  by  the  man  who  took  the  body  to  the  farm, 
with  the  intention  of  giving  the  impression  that  the 
crime  took  place  there.  Knowing  that  the  bullet  which 
killed  Lumsden  had  gone  through  his  body,  he  placed 
the  body  in  a  chair  near  the  window  and  then  fired  a 
shot  through  the  window.  He  made  the  mistake  of 
going  close  up  to  the  window  to  fire,  and  as  a  re- 
sult he  fired  downwards  instead  of  on  a  level  at  the 
height  of  the  wound  in  Lumsden's  body." 


202      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 


"If  that  is  all  you  have  to  support  your  theory " 

began  Detective  Gillett. 

"It  isn't  all,"  said  Crewe,  with  a  slight  indication 
of  impatience.  "It  is  only  my  first  point.  You  will 
recall  that  on  the  stairs  there  were  indications  that 
a  wet  rag  had  been  used  for  wiping  away  some  traces 
or  stains.  Inspector  Payne  suggested  that  the  rag 
had  been  used  to  wipe  away  muddy  boot-marks  on  the 
stairs — the  traces  of  these  boots.  These  boots  were 
not  worn  by  the  man  as  he  went  upstairs ;  he  put  them 
on  afterwards.  Presently  I  will  tell  you  why  he 
did.  But  the  marks  on  the  stairs  were  not  the  marks 
of  muddy  boots.  They  were  stains  of  blood  which 
dropped  from  the  dead  man's  wound,  as  his  body  was 
carried  upstairs.  These  marks  are  in  the  hall  leading 
to  the  stairs  and  on  the  landing  leading  to  the  room 
in  which  the  body  was  placed.  In  the  room  itself  no 
attempt  to  remove  the  blood-stains  was  made,  be- 
cause they  were  an  indication  that  the  shooting  took 
place  there.  If  he  had  been  aware  that  there  was 
a  stain  of  blood  on  the  latch-key  which  he  took  from 
the  dead  man's  pocket,  he  would  have  washed  it 
away." 

"If  he  had  possession  of  the  key  in  order  to  get  the 
body  into  the  house  in  the  way  you  state,  Mr.  Crewe, 
why  did  he  break  into  the  house?  Remember  one  of 
the  downstairs  windows  was  forced." 

"It  was  forced  by  the  man  who  took  the  body  there. 
But  he  forced  it  in  breaking  out  of  the  house — not 
in  breaking  into  it.  He  wanted  to  give  the  impres- 
sion that  some  one  had  broken  into  the  house,  but 
he  was  pressed  for  time — he  was  anxious  to  get  away. 
In  searching  for  a  rag  in  the  kitchen  with  which 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      203 

to  wipe  out  the  bloodstains,  he  saw  these  boots.  They 
belonged  to  Lumsden,  as  you  have  said,  but  it  was  more 
likely  that  Lumsden  kept  them  in  the  kitchen  than 
fn  the  barn  or  cowshed.  This  man — let  us  call  him  the 
murderer — saw  in  the  boots  a  means  of  averting  sus- 
picion from  himself.  He  decided  to  leave  clues  that 
would  suggest  that  the  murderer  broke  into  the  house. 
But,  instead  of  going  out  of  the  front  door  and  break- 
ing into  the  house,  he  forced  the  window  from  inside 
the  room.  Then,  with  these  boots  on,  he  climbed  out 
of  the  window  backwards,  and  when  he  reached  the 
ground  he  walked  backwards  across  the  garden  bed 
to  the  path  in  order  to  give  the  impression  that  some 
one  had  walked  forwards  across  the  bed  to  the  win- 
dow. 

"You  saw  from  the  sash  of  the  window  that  the 
catch  had  been  forced  back  by  a  knife,  but  appar- 
ently you  overlooked  the  fact  that  the  marks  of  the 
knife  are  much  broader  at  the  top,  where  the  catch 
is,  than  at  the  bottom,  where  the  knife  would  enter 
if  the  catch  had  been  forced  by  some  one  outside.  It 
was  at  the  top,  near  the  catch,  and  not  at  the  bot- 
tom below  it,  that  the  knife  was  inserted;  that  is  to 
say,  the  knife  was  used  by  some  one  inside  the  room. 
The  footprints  outside  the  window  showed  that  they 
were  made  by  a  person  walking  backwards;  the  im- 
pression from  the  toe  to  the  ball  of  the  foot  being 
very  distinct  and  the  rest  of  the  foot  indistinct.  A 
person  in  walking  backwards  puts  down  his  toes  first, 
and  gradually  brings  the  rest  of  his  foot  down ;  a  per- 
son walking  forwards  puts  his  heel  down  first  and 
then  puts  down  the  rest  of  his  foot  as  he  brings  his 
weight  forward.  Our  man,  having  made  his  way  to 


204      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

the  garden  path  from  the  window,  walked  along  the 
path  to  the  motor-car  at  the  gate,  probably  carrying  his 
own  boots  in  his  hand.  As  soon  as  he  entered  his 
car  he  drove  off  along  the  road  in  the  direction  of 
Staveley  with  the  lights  out.  He  took  a  risk  in 
travelling  in  the  dark,  and  in  spite  of  the  fact  that 
he  knew  the  road  well  he  came  to  grief  before  he 
reached  Staveley." 

"How  do  you  know  all  this  ?"  asked  Gillett.  "How 
do  you  know  he  had  a  car?"  He  had  not  given  up 
his  own  theory  in  favour  of  Crewe's,  but  he  realized 
that  Crewe's  theory  was  the  more  striking  one. 

"In  Marsland's  statement  he  said  that  his  horse 
swerved  from  something  in  the  dark  as  he  was  coming 
down  the  Cliff  road,  and  fell  lame,"  said  Crewe.  "The 
horse  shied  at  the  motor-car  as  it  passed.  Marsland 
neither  saw  nor  heard  the  car  because  of  the  dark- 
ness, intensified  by  the  storm,  and  because  of  the 
roar  of  the  wind  and  waves." 

"You  don't  really  expect  us  to  regard  the  swerving 
of  the  horse  as  proof  there  was  a  motor-car  there?"  de- 
manded Gillett/  with  a  superior  smile. 

"Contributory  proof,"  said  Crewe.  "If  you  went 
along  the  cliff  road,  as  I  did  on  leaving  the  farm  after 
meeting  you  there,  you  would  have  noticed  that  the 
danger  post  nearest  the  farm  was  out  of  the  perpen- 
dicular. That  was  not  the  case  previous  to  the  night 
of  the  storm.  This  motor-car  without  lights  bumped 
into  it.  The  mark  of  the  wheels  where  the  car  had  left 
the  road  was  quite  plain  when  I  looked — it  had  not 
been  obliterated  by  the  rain.  Four  miles  away  the 
car  was  run  into  the  ditch  and  overturned.  I  saw 
it  as  Sir  George  Granville  and  I  drove  along  to  Cliff 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      205 

Farm  on  Saturday  morning.  If  you  want  informa- 
tion concerning  it  and  the  person  who  drove  it  you 
can  obtain  it  at  Gosford's  garage  at  Staveley.  The 
car  was  hired  from  Gosford." 

"By  whom?"  asked  Gillett. 

"By  a  man  named  Arnold  Brett,  who  was  a  very 
close  friend  of  the  dead  man." 

"I  know  all  about  Brett  from  Inspector  Murchison," 
said  Gillett.  "He  rang  me  up  about  him  and  promised 
to  let  me  know  when  he  came  back  to  his  lodgings 
at  Staveley.  He  said  that  Brett  was  a  close  friend  of 
Lumsden's,  and  would  probably  be  able  to  give  us 
some  useful  information  when  he  returns." 

"When  will  he  return?"  asked  Crewe. 

"You  think  he  has  cleared  out?"  suggested  Gillett. 

"I'm  sure  of  it,"  was  the  reply. 

"Murchison  gave  the  impression  that  he  was  sure 
to  come  back — that  he  had  left  Staveley  the  day  be- 
fore the  murder.  I  understood  from  Murchison  that 
Brett  is  doing  some  secret  service  work  for  the  Gov- 
ernment, and  that  it  was  quite  a  regular  thing  for  him 
to  disappear  suddenly." 

"No  doubt  it  was,"  said  Crewe.  "But  this  time  he  is 
not  coming  back." 

"I'll  ring  up  Murchison,"  said  Gillett 

"Don't  waste  your  time,"  was  Crewe's  reply. 
"Murchison  is  an  excellent  fellow — an  ideal  police 
official  for  a  quiet  seaside  place  where  nothing  hap- 
pens, but  too  genial  and  unsuspecting  for  an  emer- 
gency of  this  kind.  Go  and  see  Brett's  apartments  at 
Staveley — No.  41  Whitethorn  Gardens — and  the  land- 
lady, Mrs.  Penfield,  will  tell  you  as  she  told  Murchi- 
son, and  as  she  told  me  also,  that  Brett  left  Staveley 


206      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

on  secret  service  work  on  Thursday  morning,  I5th  Oc- 
tober, and  that  she  expects  him  back  at  any  moment. 
But  go  to  Gosford  and  he  will  show  you  the  car  that 
Brett  hired  on  Friday. 

"He  will  tell  you  that  on  Saturday  about  mid- 
day Brett  rang  him  up— from  Lewes,  Gosford  says,  but 
it  was  more  probably  from  Marlingsea,  on  his  way 
to  London — and  told  him  that  he  had  met  with  an 
accident  with  the  car,  and  that  it  was  lying  in  the 
ditch  on  the  side  of  the  road  about  six  miles  out  from 
Staveley  on  the  road  to  this  place.  It  was  there  that 
Gosford's  foreman  found  the  car  when  he  went  for 
it.  If  Brett  hired  a  car  at  Staveley  on  Friday  he 
couldn't  have  left  Staveley  on  Thursday,  as  his  land- 
lady says.  She  doesn't  know  what  to  think  in  regard 
to  this  murder,  but  she  is  ready  to  shield  Brett  all 
she  can  because  she  is  in  love  with  him." 


CHAPTER  XIX 

"I  MUST  say  that  I  feel  very  grateful  to  you,  Mr. 
Crewe,"  said  Detective  Gillett  after  a  pause.  "You 
have  certainly  got  hold  of  some  facts  of  which  I  was 
not  aware.  And  your  deductions  are  most  interest- 
ing. What  do  you  say,  Westaway?" 

"Most  interesting,"  said  the  sergeant.  "I  had  heard 
a  lot  of  Mr.  Crewe  before  I  met  him,  but  I'd  like 
to  say  that  it's  a  great  privilege  to  listen  to  his  de- 
ductions." 

"Oh,  I  don't  go  so  far  as  to  accept  his  theory  and 
abandon  my  own,"  interposed  Gillett  hurriedly.  "To 
my  mind  there  is  truth  in  both  of  them,  and  the  whole 
truth  will  probably  be  found  in  a  judicious  combina- 
tion of  both." 

Crewe  could  scarcely  hide  his  impatience  at  Gil- 
lett's  obstinacy,  and  his  determination  to  claim  at  least 
an  equal  share  in  solving  the  mystery. 

"My  dear  Gillett,"  he  said,  "let  us  abandon  theories 
and  keep  to  facts.  The  great  danger  in  our  work  is 
in  fitting  facts  to  theories  instead  of  letting  the  facts 
speak  for  themselves.  If  you  still  think  you  have 
a  case  against  Marsland,  let  us  go  into  it.  It  is  no 
part  of  my  work  to  prove  Marsland  innocent  if  he  is 
guilty;  I  have  no  object  in  proving  Brett  guilty  if 
he  is  innocent.  But  as  the  guest  of  Sir  George  Gran- 
ville,  I  want  to  save  him  and  his  nephew  unnecessary 

207 


208      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

distress  and  anxiety.  By  a  full  and  frank  discussion 
we  can  decide  as  man  to  man  whether  there  is  any 
real  case  for  Marsland  to  answer.  I  admit  that  you 
have  justification  for  some  suspicions  in  regard  to 
him,  but  let  us  see  if  the  fog  of  suspicion  cannot  be 
cleared  away  by  a  discussion  of  the  facts." 

"It  will  take  a  great  deal  to  convince  me  that  he 
doesn't  know  more  about  this  tragedy  than  he  has 
told  us,"  said  Gillett  doggedly. 

"But  are  we  to  find  him  guilty  merely  because  he 
chooses  to  keep  silence  on  certain  points?" 

"What  is  his  object  in  keeping  silence?  What  was 
his  object  in  making  a  false  statement?  What  is  his 
object  in  putting  obstacles  in  our  way?  Is  that  the 
conduct  of  an  innocent  man  ?" 

"It  is  not  the  conduct  of  a  man  anxious  to  help  the 
police  to  the  utmost  of  his  power  without  regard  to 
consequences,"  said  Crewe.  "But  there  is  a  wide  gulf 
between  being  guilty  of  keeping  something  back  and 
being  guilty  of  murder." 

"When  the  thing  kept  back  suggests  a  motive  for 
getting  the  man  who  was  murdered  out  of  the  way,  it 
is  natural  to  see  a  connection  between  the  two,"  re- 
turned Gillett 

"And  what  was  the  thing  that  Marsland  kept  back  ?" 

"He  kept  back  that  he  was  an  officer  in  the  army — 
Captain  in  the  London  Rifle  Brigade.  He  kept  back 
that  this  man  Lumsden  was  a  private  in  his  com- 
pany." 

"But  the  discovery  of  these  things  did  not  present 
any  great  difficulty  to  a  police  official  of  your  re- 
sources, Gillett." 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      209 

"No,  they  did  not,"  the  detective  admitted.  "But 
we  should  have  been  told  of  them  in  the  first  place." 

"True.  But  listen  to  the  explanation  why  you  were 
not  told.  Marsland  has  been  an  invalid  for  some 
months.  He  was  invalided  out  of  the  army  because 
of  wounds  and  nervous  shock.  He  broke  down  as 
many  others  have  broken  down,  under  a  long  ex- 
perience of  the  awful  horrors  of  the  front.  In  order 
to  assist  in  his  recovery  the  doctors  ordered  that  as 
far  as  possible  his  mind  should  be  kept  from  dwelling 
on  the  war.  For  this  reason  the  war  is  never  men- 
tioned in  his  presence  by  those  who  know  of  his 
nervous  condition.  He  is  never  addressed  by  them 
as  an  army  officer,  but  as  a  civilian." 

"All  that  is  very  interesting,  Mr.  Crewe,  but  it  does 
not  dispose  of  the  information  in  our  possession. 
You  see,  the  circumstances  in  which  Captain  Mars- 
land  came  into  this  affair  were  so  very  extraordinary, 
that  he  might  well  have  told  Westaway  the  truth 
about  the  military  connection  between  himself  and 
Lumsden.  It  was  an  occasion  when  the  whole  truth 
should  have  been  told.  We  could  not  have  been  long 
in  learning  from  his  relatives  that  he  was  suffering 
from  nervous  shock,  and  we  would  have  shown  him 
every  consideration." 

"That  is  an  excellent  piece  of  special  pleading,"  said 
Crewe.  "But  you  do  not  take  into  consideration  the 
fact  that  the  evasion  of  everything  that  dealt  with 
the  Army,  and  particularly  with  his  old  regiment,  lias 
become  a  habit  with  Marsland." 

"Our  information,"  said  Gillett  slowly  and  impres- 
sively, "is  that  he  believed  Lumsden  was  dead — that 
he  had  been  killed  in  France.  That  in  his  capacity  as 

P 


210      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 
I 

an  officer  he  sent  Lumsden  and  another  man  to  their 
death.  He  had  a  grudge  against  this  other  man. 
Lumsden's  companion  was  killed  but  Lumsden  was 
taken  prisoner  and  subsequently  escaped.  If  that  is 
correct,  it  supplies  a  strong  motive  for  getting  Lums- 
den out  of  the  way  when  he  discovered  that  Lums- 
den was  alive  and  in  England." 

"When  did  Marsland  make  this  discovery?" 

"That  I  don't  know.  But  he  could  easily  have 
made  it  and  obtained  Lumsden's  address  from  the 
headquarters  of  the  London  Rifle  Brigade." 

"Did  he  make  such  inquiries  there?" 

"I  have  not  obtained  positive  proof  that  he  did. 
But  as  a  retired  officer  of  the  Brigade,  who  knows  his 
way  about  their  headquarters,  he  could  do  it  for 
himself  in  a  way  that  would  leave  no  proof." 

"Who  was  the  man  that  Marsland  sent  out  on  a 
mission  of  death  with  Lumsden?" 

"I  haven't  got  the  name." 

"Can't  you  get  it?" 

"I  am  afraid  not.  It  is  not  a  thing  one  could  get 
from  the  regimental  records." 

"But  cannot  you  get  it  from  your  informant — 
from  the  person  who  is  your  authority  for  the  story  ?" 

"Not  very  well." 

"What  does  that  mean  ?" 

"Our  informant  is  anonymous.  He  sent  me  a  let- 
ter." 

"And  since  when  have  you  begun  to  place  implicit 
faith  in  anonymous  letters,  my  dear  Gillett?" 

The  detective  flushed  under  this  gentle  irony.  "I 
don't  place  implicit  faith  in  it.  But  it  fits  in  with 
other  information  in  our  possession.  And  you  ought 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      211 

to  know  better  than  to  despise  anonymous  informa- 
tion, Mr.  Crewe.  It  is  not  difficult  to  conceive  cir- 
cumstances in  which  a  man  is  willing  to  give  the 
police  very  valuable  information,  but  will  not  come 
into  the  open  to  do  it." 

"But  it  is  even  less  difficult,"  replied  Crewe,  "to 
conceive  circumstances  in  which  a  man  tries  to  divert 
suspicion  from  himself  by  directing  the  attentions  of 
the  police  to  some  one  else  by  means  of  an  anonymous 
letter." 

"I  haven't  overlooked  that,"  said  Gillett  confidently. 

"And  this  anonymous  communication  fits  in  with 
other  information  in  your  possession — other  informa- 
tion that  you  have  received  from  Miss  Maynard?" 
Crewe  looked  steadily  at  Gillett,  and  then  turned  his 
gaze  on  Westaway. 

"So,  you  know  about  her?"  was  Gillett's  comment. 

"She  did  me  the  honour  of  asking  my  advice  when 
I  met  her  two  days  ago  at  Cliff  Farm." 

"What  was  she  doing  there?" 

"Didn't  she  tell  you?" 

"She  did  not." 

"I  understood  from  her  that  it  was  her  firm  de- 
termination to  tell  you  everything — to  take  you  fully 
into  her  confidence,  and  throw  all  the  light  she  could 
on  the  tragedy." 

"She  told  us  that  she  was  at  the  farm  the  night 
Captain  Marsland  was  there,"  said  Gillett.  "She 
sought  shelter  there  from  the  storm  and  went  up- 
stairs with  Captain  Marsland  when  the  body  was  dis- 
covered. He  said  nothing  whatever  about  this  in  his 
statement  to  Westaway." 


212      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

"Nothing  whatever,"  said  Westaway.  "He  led  me 
to  believe  he  was  entirely  and  absolutely  alone  " 

"But  why  didn't  she  come  to  the  police  station 
that  night  and  make  her  own  statement  ?"  asked  Crewe. 
"Why  all  this  delay?" 

"Her  first  impulse  was  to  keep  her  name  out  of  it 
because  of  the  way  people  would  talk,"  said  Sergeant 
Westaway,  who,  as  an  old  resident  of  Ashlingsea,  felt 
better  qualified  than  Detective  Gillett  to  interpret  the 
mental  process  of  one  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  little 
town. 

"And  so  she  asked  Marsland  to  say  nothing  about 
her  presence  at  the  farm  ?"  asked  Crewe. 

"She  admits  that,"  was  Westaway's  reply. 

"Of  course  she  had  to  admit  it  in  order  to  clear 
the  way  for  a  statement  implicating  Marsland  in  the 
crime,"  said  Crewe. 

"That  was  not  her  motive.  After  thinking  over  all 
that  happened,  she  decided  that  by  shielding  herself 
from  idle  gossip  she  might  be  helping  unconsciously  to 
shield  the  murderer." 

"And  she  told  you  everything,"  said  Crewe. 

"Everything,"  said  Sergeant  Westaway  emphatically. 

"She  told  you  why  she  was  waiting  at  the  farm 
on  the  night  that  Lumsden's  dead  body  was  brought 
there?" 

"She  went  there  for  shelter  from  the  storm,"  ex- 
plained the  confident  sergeant.  "That  would  be  after 
the  body  was  brought  there — if  your  theory  is  cor- 
rect, Mr.  Crewe ;  and  after  he  was  shot  in  the  house — 
if  our  theory  is  correct.  Our  theory  is  that  Captain 
Marsland,  after  committing  the  crime,  went  outside 
the  house  to  hide  the  traces  of  it — probably  to  get 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      213 

rid  of  these  boots  and  revolver,  which  he  threw  down 
the  well." 

"It  hasn't  occurred  to  you,  sergeant,  that  these 
things  may  have  been  placed  in  the  well  within  the 
last  few  days  in  order  that  you  might  find  them 
there?"  said  Crewe. 

"Who  would  place  them  there?"  asked  Gillett  com- 
ing to  the  rescue  of  the  sergeant  with  a  poser. 

"I  think  you  asked  me  just  now  what  Miss  May- 
nard  was  doing  at  the  farm  two  days  ago,"  said  Crewe. 

"And  you  think  that  there  may  be  some  con- 
nection between  her  visit  there  and  these  things?" 

"With  all  due  deference  to  the  sergeant  as  a  judge 
of  character,  and  particularly  of  the  feminine  char- 
acter, I  am  quite  convinced  that  she  has  not  told  you 
everything." 

"Can  you  tell  us  anything  she  is  keeping  back  ?" 

"She  is  keeping  back  the  real  reason  why  she  went 
to  Cliff  Farm  on  the  night  the  body  was  taken 
there." 

"You  do  not  think  she  went  there  to  shelter  from 
the  storm?" 

"She  had  an  appointment  there,"  said  Crewe. 

"With  whom?"  asked  Gillett  breathlessly. 

"With  Brett — the  man  to  whom  she  is  engaged." 

"What!"  exclaimed  Gillett. 

"Surely  she  explained  to  you  the  nature  of  her  rela- 
tions with  Brett  ?"  said  Crewe  maliciously.  "Except  in 
regard  to  Marsland  she  does  not  seem  to  have  taken 
you  into  her  confidence  at  all." 

"She  may  be  playing  a  deep  game,"  said  Gillett, 
in  a  tone  which  indicated  that  although  an  attempt 


214      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

might  be  made  to  hoodwink  them,  it  was  not  likely 
to  prove  successful. 

"I  think  you  will  find  that  she  is  a  very  clever 
young  woman,"  was  Crewe's  comment. 

"What  was  the  nature  of  her  appointment  at  Cliff 
Farm  with  Brett?  Why  not  meet  him  at  Ashlingsea 
or  at  Staveley?"  asked  Gillett. 

"As  to  the  nature  of  the  appointment,  I  will  refer 
you  for  full  details  to  Mrs.  Grange.  You  know  her, 
sergeant,  of  course?"  Crewe  said,  turning  to  Westa- 
way. 

"The  dwarf  woman  at  Staveley?"  asked  the  ser- 
geant. 

"Yes.  If  I  am  not  much  mistaken  Grange  and  his 
wife  were  in  the  vicinity  of  Cliff  Farm  when  the  dead 
body  of  the  owner  was  brought  there.  WThat  part 
they  played  in  the  tragedy  I  must  leave  you  to  find 
out  from  them.  I  am  not  certain  myself  of  their 
part,  but  I  have  a  fairly  clear  idea.  You  can  let 
me  know  what  admission  you  get  from  them.  Be- 
fore they  admit  anything  it  may  be  necessary  to 
frighten  them  with  arrest,  Gillett.  But  I  don't  sup- 
pose you  mind  doing  that  ?" 

"Not  in  the  least,"  replied  Gillett  with  a  smile  that 
was  free  from  embarrassment.  "But  what  evidence 
can  I  produce  to  show  that  I  know  they  know  all 
about  Miss  Maynard's  presence  at  the  farm?  What 
evidence  is  there  that  this  man  and  his  wife  were  any- 
where in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  place  ?" 

"They  went  over  in  the  afternoon  of  October  i6th 
in  a  motor-boat  in  charge  of  a  boatman  at  Staveley, 
who  is  called  Pedro,  and  wears  a  scarlet  cloak. 
Murchison  told  me  that  Pedro  is  the  father  of  Mrs. 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      215 

Grange,  the  dwarf  woman — they  are  Italians.  But 
Grange,  the  husband,  is  an  Englishman.  He  keeps  a 
second-hand  bookshop  in  Curzon  Street,  at  Staveley, 
and  lives  over  the  shop  with  his  wife.  Is  that  not  so, 
Westaway  ?" 

"Yes,  sir.    That  is  quite  correct." 

"They  reached  the  landing-place  at  the  foot  of  the 
cliffs,  near  the  farm,  before  there  was  any  appear- 
ance of  the  storm.  The  next  morning,  as  I  was  de- 
scending the  cliff  by  the  secret  path,  I  found  an 
old  felt  hat  on  the  rocks  just  before  Pedro,  who  had 
come  over  in  his  boat  to  look  for  it,  reached  the  place. 
My  impression  is  that  the  hat  belonged  to  Grange,  and 
was  blown  off  as  he  was  descending  the  cliff  by  the  path 
when  the  storm  was  abating.  If  it  had  been  blown  off 
in  the  afternoon,  while  he  was  ascending  the  cliff  in 
daylight,  he  could  have  recovered  it  without  much  dif- 
ficulty. The  fact  that  he  left  it  behind  indicates  that  it 
was  blown  off  in  the  dark  and  that  he  was  too  excited 
and  upset  to  hunt  for  It.  But  on  reaching  Staveley  in 
Pedro's  boat,  after  the  storm  had  abated,  he  began 
to  think  that  his  old  hat  was  a  dangerous  object 
to  leave  about  in  the  vicinity  of  a  house  where  there 
was  the  body  of  a  murdered  man  awaiting  discovery  by 
the  police,  so  he  sent  Pedro  back  to  the  landing-place 
to  recover  the  hat." 

"But,  hang  it  all,  Crewe!  Some  of  your  reason- 
ing about  the  hat  is  merely  surmise.  You  say  it  was 
blown  off  while  Grange  was  descending  the  cliff  path. 
How  do  you  arrive  at  that  conclusion?  It  might 
have  been  blown  off  at  any  time — while  he  was  cross- 
ing to  the  farm,  or  standing  on  the  cliffs." 


216      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

"No,"  replied  Crewe.  "The  gale  was  blowing  in 
from  the  sea,  and  if  Grange's  hat  had  blown  off  while 
he  was  on  the  cliffs  it  would  have  blown  inward — 
that  is,  across  the  downs." 

Detective  Gillett  nodded. 

"I  overlooked  that  point,"  he  said.  "Have  you  pos- 
session of  the  hat  now  ?" 

"Yes.  You  can  have  it  if  you  call  for  it  at  Sir 
George  Granville's,  on  your  way  to  interview  Grange 
this  afternoon  or  to-morrow.  But  the  Granges  know 
that  I  have  the  hat.  I  went  there  with  it  just  to  con- 
vince myself  that  Grange  did  own  it." 

"Did  he  admit  that  it  was  his?" 

"He  denied  it  But  he  is  not  a  good  hand  at  dis- 
simulation. I  offered  to  hand  over  the  hat  to  him 
in  exchange  for  a  truthful  account  of  all  he  and  his 
wife  knew  about  the  tragedy,  but  the  offer  was  not 
entertained.  They  denied  that  they  were  there  at 
all." 

"I'll  soon  get  them  to  alter  that  tune!"  exclaimed 
the  resourceful  Gillett.  "I  will  put  the  screw  on  this 
man  in  the  scarlet  cloak  until  I  squeeze  something 
out  of  him." 

"I  am  afraid  you  will  have  a  slight  difficulty  in  mak- 
ing Pedro  reveal  anything,"  said  Crewe.  "He  is  deaf 
and  dumb." 

Gillett  looked  somewhat  confused  at  finding  that 
his  impetuous  confidence  had  carried  him  beyond  his 
resources. 

"That  is  unfortunate,"  he  said. 

"It  is  of  no  consequence,"  returned  Crewe,  "for  you 
have  evidence  in  your  possession  that  Mrs.  Grange 


217 

was  inside  the  farmhouse.  The  comb  you  found  in 
the  sitting-room  downstairs  belongs  to  her.  When  I 
went  to  see  her  she  was  wearing  one  exactly  similar 
to  it.  Apparently  she  had  two  of  them.  And  she 
does  not  know  where  she  lost  the  one  the  police  have, 
or  she  would  not  wear  its  fellow." 


CHAPTER  XX 

DINNER  was  just  over  at  Sir  George  Granville's 
house,  and  Crewe,  on  hearing  that  Detective  Gillett 
and  Sergeant  Westaway  had  called  to  see  him,  took 
them  into  the  library  at  his  host's  suggestion. 

"I  have  seen  Grange  and  his  wife,  and  also  Mrs. 
Penfield,"  said  Gillett. 

"And  what  did  you  get  from  them?"  asked  Crewe. 

"A  great  deal  of  interesting  information — and  most 
of  it  bearing  out  your  theory,  Mr.  Crewe.  I  must 
say  that  this  crime  has  more  twists  and  turns  than 
any  I  have  ever  had  anything  to  do  with." 

"I  formed  the  impression  some  time  ago  that  it 
was  a  complicated  and  interesting  case,"  said  Crewe. 

"And  I  want  to  say,  Mr.  Crewe,  that  you  have 
been  a  great  help  to  us.  If  it  wasn't  for  you  we 
shouldn't  have  got  on  the  right  track  so  soon,  should 
we,  sergeant?" 

Sergeant  Westaway,  who  was  not  very  quick  at 
arriving  at  conclusions,  had  discovered  that  Detective 
Gillett  was  generally  ready  to  call  him  to  official  com- 
radeship in  the  mistakes  that  had  been  made,  but  less 
disposed  to  give  him  an  equal  share  in  any  success 
achieved.  He  nodded  in  silent  acquiescence  with  the 
admission  that  they  owed  something  to  Crewe. 

"And  whom  did  you  see  first?"  asked  Crewe. 

"I  went  to  the  garage  first  to  learn  about  the  motor- 
218 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      219 

car  Brett  hired,"  said  Gillett.  "I  had  a  look  at  their 
books,  and  found  that  he  had  the  car  on  Friday  after- 
noon. Gosford  will  not  only  swear  by  his  books, 
but  he  remembers  quite  distinctly  that  it  was  on  Fri- 
day that  Brett  had  the  car.  As  he  told  you,  the  next 
thing  he  heard  of  it  was  that  it  was  lying  in  the 
ditch  about  six  miles  away.  He  says  Brett,  when 
telephoning,  said  he  was  speaking  from  Lewes — but 
that  is  probably  a  lie.  As  Brett  was  making  his  es- 
cape hrt  would  not  be  likely  to  say  where  he  was. 
But  I  can  easily  find  out  from  the  telephone  exchange 
where  the  call  came  from.  It  was  a  trunk  call,  and 
the  only  trunk  call  Gosford  received  that  day,  so 
there  will  be  no  difficulty  in  getting  it  from  the 
records  of  the  exchange.  Then  I  went  to  Brett's 
lodgings  in  Whitethorn  Gardens.  This  woman,  Mrs. 
Penfield,  tried  to  bluff  me — she  said  she  was  certain 
that  Brett  had  left  on  Thursday,  and  that  Gosford 
was  mistaken  in  thinking  Brett  had  the  car  on  Fri- 
day. But,  when  I  threatened  to  arrest  her  for  be- 
ing an  accessory,  she  broke  down  and  admitted  that 
Brett  left  her  place  after  lunch  on  Friday  to  drive 
to  Cliff  Farm,  and  that  she  has  not  seen  or  heard  of 
him  since." 

"Not  seen  or  heard  of  him?"  echoed  Crewe  medi- 
tatively. 

"By  this  time  I  felt  that  I  was  getting  on,"  con- 
tinued Detective  Gillett. 

Sergeant  Westaway  nodded  to  himself  in  sour  de- 
pression at  the  deliberate  exclusion  of  himself  from 
the  story  of  progress. 

"I  next  called  at  Grange's  shop.  Westaway  showed 
me  the  place." 


220      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

"Ah!"  exclaimed  the  sergeant,  as  if  he  were  in 
pain. 

"I  explained  to  Grange  who  I  was,  and  he  nearly 
fell  through  the  floor  with  fright.  I  saw  there  would 
not  be  much  difficulty  in  dealing  with  him.  But  the 
ugly  little  dwarf  upstairs  was  a  different  proposition. 
She  protested  that  she  and  her  husband  knew  noth- 
ing about  Cliff  Farm,  or  what  had  happened  there. 
Even  when  I  produced  the  hat  you  gave  me  she 
would  not  give  in.  But  when  I  produced  the  comb 
— it  is  exactly  similar  to  the  one  she  was  wearing — 
it  made  an  impression,  and  then  when  I  followed  that 
up  with  a  threat  to  arrest  them  both " 

"Ah,"  interrupted  Crewe  with  a  smile,  "that  is 
where  you  Scotland  Yard  men  have  the  advantage. 
And  I  must  say  that  you  don't  neglect  to  use  it  on 
every  occasion.  If  I  could  only  threaten  people  with 
arrest  I  should  be  able  to  surmount  many  of  the 
difficulties  which  confront  me  from  time  to  time." 

"It  is  a  good  card,"  admitted  Detective  Gillett,  with 
the  pride  of  a  man  who  holds  a  strong  hand  which 
he  has  dealt  himself.  "It  enabled  me  to  get  their 
story  out  of  them,  and  a  most  interesting  story  it  is." 

"I  thought  it  would  be,"  said  Crewe. 

"The  body  was  brought  to  the  farm  by  Brett. 
Grange  and  his  wife  were  in  the  house  when  he  car- 
ried it  upstairs." 

"But  did  Brett  know  they  were  there?"  asked 
Crewe. 

"He  did  not;  he  never  suspected  there  was  any- 
body in  the  house.  They  hid  on  the  top  floor." 

"And  they  were  there  when  Miss  Maynard  came 
after  Brett  had  gone,"  said  Crewe,  pursuing  a  train 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      221 

of  thought.  "They  were  there  when  Marsland  and 
she  went  up  to  the  first  floor  and  discovered  the  body. 
It  was  Grange  who  knocked  over  the  picture  at  the 
top  of  the  staircase,  and  caused  the  noise  which 
alarmed  Marsland  and  Miss  Maynard." 

"Right,"  said  Gillett.  "You  seem  to  know  the  whole 
story :  it  is  not  worth  while  for  me  to  go  over  it." 

"Oh,  yes  it  is.  If  you  got  the  whole  truth  out  of 
that  little  dwarf  and  her  husband,  you  will  be  able 
to  fill  in  for  me  some  blanks  in  my  reconstruction  of 
the  crime." 

Detective  Gillett  was  mollified  by  the  assurance  that 
he  had  in  his  possession  some  information  which  was 
new  to  Crewe,  and  he  resumed  his  story  with  in- 
terest : 

"What  do  you  think  took  the  Granges  over  to  the 
farm?  It  was  to  hold  a  seance  there  with  the  ob- 
ject of  finding  where  old  grandfather  Lumsden  had 
hidden  his  money.  Young  Lumsden  had  heard  from 
Murchison  something  about  the  dwarf's  psychic  pow- 
ers, and  in  company  with  Brett  he  went  to  see  her. 
First  of  all  they  produced  the  cryptogram  old  Lums- 
den had  left  behind,  and  asked  Grange  if  he  knew 
anything  about  cryptograms  or  could  get  them  a  book 
on  how  to  solve  them.  Grange  couldn't  help  them 
there,  and  from  that  the  conversation  turned  to  spir- 
itualism, and  one  of  them — probably  Brett — suggested 
that  Mrs.  Grange  should  try  to  solve  the  cryptogram 
by  getting  into  communication  with  the  spirit  of  old 
Lumsden  and  asking  him  where  he  had  hidden  the 
money.  A  splendid  idea,  don't  you  think,  Mr.  Crewe  ?" 

"Excellent!" 

"There  is  nothing  in  this  spiritualistic  business." 


222      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

said  Sergeant  Westaway,  with  official  certainty.  "No 
good  ever  comes  of  those  who  dabble  in  it — I've  seen 
cases  of  the  kind  at  Ashlingsea.  We  had  a  sort  of 
medium  there  once,  but  I  managed  to  clear  her  out, 
after  a  lot  of  trouble." 

"Once  spiritualism  gets  into  good  working  order 
there  will  be  no  work  for  police  or  detectives,  ser- 
geant," said  Crewe.  "The  mediums  will  save  all  the 
trouble  of  collecting  evidence." 

"I  don't  believe  in  it  at  all;  it  is  nothing  but  fraud 
and  deception,"  returned  Sergeant  Westaway. 

"Here  is  the  cryptogram,"  said  Detective  Gillett. 

He  held  out  to  Crewe  a  sheet  of  paper  which  he 
took  from  his  pocket-book. 

"A  curious  document!"  said  Crewe,  examining  it 
intently. 

"I  got  it  from  the  dwarf  woman,"  said  Gillett.  "She 
had  it  hidden  away  in  her  sitting-room." 

"I  suppose  she  didn't  want  to  part  with  it?" 

"She  did  not.    But  when  I  threatened  to  arrest " 

"Well,  I  can  honestly  congratulate  you  on  getting 
it,"  said  Crewe.  "I  have  been  very  anxious  to  see  it. 
This  is  the  cryptogram  that  Marsland  found  on  the 
stairs,  and  subsequently  disappeared  from  the  house. 
Mrs.  Grange  secured  it  before  she  left  the  house,  after 
the  departure  of  Marsland  and  Miss  Maynard." 

"That  is  what  I  thought,  but  the  dwarf  says,  'No/ 
She  says  that  this  is  the  original  cryptogram,  and  that 
she  got  it  from  young  Lumsden  in  order  to  study  it 
before  holding  a  seance.  Lumsden  would  not  part 
with  it  until  he  had  made  a  copy,  in  case  anything 
happened  to  the  original.  Mrs.  Grange  took  the 
original  with  her  over  to  Cliff  Farm,  but  it  has  never 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      223 


Jf  JL  If  * 


«    *   « 

•  * 

10  f» 


, 

3|«  « 

'  » 

It  y. 

u  •> 


t*u 


0t+**ff**A 


stt 


^       W 


224      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

been  out  of  her  possession  since  Lumsden  gave  it  to 
her.  She  did  not  see  the  copy  Lumsden  made ;  she  did 
not  see  it  at  the  house,  and  does  not  know  what  be- 
came of  it.  However,  the  copy  is  of  no  consequence." 

"Oh,  isn't  it?"  said  Crewe.  "I  would  like  to  know 
where  it  went.  The  cryptogram  can  be  solved  just 
as  well  from  the  copy  as  the  original." 

"It  probably  got  blown  away  and  destroyed,"  said 
Detective  Gillett  "There  was  a  high  wind  that  night." 

"You  might  leave  this  with  me  for  a  day  or  two," 
said  Crewe,  looking  at  the  cryptogram  earnestly.  "I 
take  an  interest  in  cryptograms." 

"You  must  take  great  care  of  it,"  Detective  Gil- 
lett replied.  "I  shall  want  to  produce  it  as  evidence 
at  the  trial." 

"When  you  get  Brett?" 

"Yes.  And  now  let  us  get  back  to  my  story.  It 
was  arranged  that  a  seance  should  be  held  at  the  farm 
on  Friday,  October  i6th." 

"Who  was  to  be  there?"  asked  Crewe. 

"Grange  and  his  wife,  Lumsden,  Brett  and  Miss 
Maynard.  This  young  lady  has  been  playing  a  deep 
game,  as  you  suggested.  I  will  settle  with  her  to- 
morrow." 

"And  this  man,  Tom  Jauncey,  who  was  shot  in  the 
arm,  wasn't  he  one  of  the  party  ?" 

"No." 

"I  thought  he  might  be  there  to  represent  the  un- 
paid legatees,"  said  Crewe. 

"I  have  no  doubt  that  he  knew  about  the  seance — that 
he  had  heard  Brett  and  Miss  Maynard  talking  about 
it.  Brett  was  in  the  habit  of  visiting  the  young  lady 
at  her  home.  No  doubt  Jauncey  went  out  to  the  farm 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      225 

in  order  to  learn  what  happened,  and  see  if  the  money 
was  found." 

"That  is  much  more  likely  than  that  he  went  there 
to  dig  in  the  garden." 

"Let  me  reconstruct  the  crime  for  you,  Mr.  Crewe. 
I  have  got  all  the  threads,"  said  Detective  Gillett 
eagerly.  "The  seance  was  to  take  place  at  6  p.  m. 
on  Friday.  The  dwarf  and  her  husband  went  over  to 
the  place  in  the  afternoon  in  the  motor-boat  belonging 
to  old  Pedro.  They  climbed  the  cliff,  and  on  reach- 
ing the  farm  found  that  there  was  no  one  about, 
but  that  the  front  door  was  not  locked.  Lums- 
den  had  gone  for  a  walk  along  the  Staveley  road 
to  meet  Brett,  who  was  to  motor  over,  and  he 
had  left  the  door  unlocked,  so  that,  if  any  of  his 
guests  arrived  during  his  absence,  they  could  enter 
the  house  and  make  themselves  at  home.  He  was 
not  afraid  of  thieves  going  there,  for  very  few  peo- 
ple travel  along  that  road  on  foot.  That  was  the 
arrangement  he  had  made  with  the  Granges. 

"They  entered  the  house,  and  had  a  look  round  the 
old  place.  No  doubt  it  occurred  to  them  that  if  they 
were  thoroughly  acquainted  with  the  rooms,  and  all 
the  nooks  and  crannies,  they  would  be  able  to  give  a 
more  impressive  seance.  And  perhaps  they  had  an 
idea  that  in  searching  round  they  might  find  the  money 
without  the  assistance  of  the  former  owner's  spirit,  in 
which  case,  I  have  no  doubt,  they  would  have  helped 
themselves.  They  had  reached  the  house  about  5 
o'clock,  and  they  had  not  been  there  half  an  hour 
before  the  storm  began  to  burst,  and  it  got  dark. 

"It  was  probably  the  noise  of  the  rising  wind  which 
prevented  them  hearing  Brett's  motor-car,  and  the 

Q 


226      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

first  intimation  they  had  that  any  one  had  arrived 
was  hearing  the  front  door  open.  They  had  closed 
it  when  they  entered  the  house,  their  object  being 
to  examine  the  rooms  undisturbed.  Brett,  thinking 
there  was  no  one  in  the  house,  opened  the  door  with 
Lumsden's  key.  The  Granges  who  were  on  the  top 
floor  did  not  call  out  to  him,  as  they  had  no  satis- 
factory explanation  to  offer  for  exploring  the  house. 
They  saw  Brett  staggering  up  the  stairs  carrying 
something  on  his  left  shoulder.  At  first  they  could 
not  make  out  what  it  was,  as  it  was  dark  inside  the 
house.  Half-way  up  the  stairs  Brett  came  to  a  halt 
to  shift  his  burden,  and  he  turned  on  an  electric 
torch  in  order  to  see  where  he  was.  By  the  light 
of  the  torch  the  Granges  saw  that  Brett  was  carry- 
ing the  body  of  a  man.  They  thought  at  first  that 
Lumsden  had  been  injured  in  an  accident  to  the 
motor-car,  but  the  fact  that  they  heard  no  voices 
subsequently — that  Brett  did  not  speak  aloud — con- 
vinces me  that  you  were  right,  and  that  Lumsden  was 
dead. 

"Brett  entered  the  room  on  the  left  of  the  stairs  on 
the  first  floor,  and  was  there  some  minutes — probably 
getting  Lumsden's  pocket-book,  and  disarranging  the 
papers  it  contained  in  the  way  we  saw.  Then  he  went 
downstairs,  and  a  few  moments  later  the  little  dwarf, 
who  was  leaning  over  the  staircase,  saw  him  moving 
about  below,  with  the  torch  in  one  hand  and  a  bucket 
in  the  other.  He  began  washing  away  the  stains  of 
blood  in  the  hall,  and  on  the  staircase.  He  came  up 
the  stairs  one  by  one  with  his  bucket  and  torch,  search- 
ing for  blood-stains,  and  swabbing  them  with  the 
cloth  whenever  he  found  them.  After  cleaning  the 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      227 

stairs  and  landing  in  this  way,  he  went  downstairs 
with  the  bucket  A  minute  later  he  came  back  to 
the  room  which  he  had  first  entered,  and  immediately 
afterwards  they  heard  a  shot.  This  was  the  shot 
fired  through  the  window.  No  doubt  the  bullet  hit  the 
cherry-tree,  and  then  struck  Jauncey  in  the  arm.  It 
seems  a  strange  thing  that  Jauncey  knew  nothing  about 
the  motor-car  at  the  gate.  But  of  course  it  had  no 
lights,  and  Jauncey,  intent  on  spying,  did  not  go  up 
to  the  front  gate  to  enter  the  garden.  He  must  have 
got  through  the  hedge  lower  down,  and  made  his  way 
across  the  home  field.  I  must  see  him  about  this  and 
ask  him. 

"After  firing  the  shot  Brett  went  downstairs  again, 
and  the  Granges  saw  no  more  of  him,"  continued 
Detective  Gillett.  "No  doubt  Brett  found  Lumsden's 
boots  in  the  kitchen,  as  you  said,  and  after  putting 
them  on  forced  the  window  downstairs  and  climbed 
out.  He  got  into  his  car  and  drove  off  without  lights, 
being  very  thankful  to  get  away  without  any  one  see- 
ing him — as  he  thought. 

''The  Granges  did  not  know  he  had  gone,  and  while 
they  were  quaking  upstairs,  wondering  what  to  do,  the 
front  door  was  opened  again  and  there  was  a  light 
step  in  the  hall.  This  was  Miss  Maynard.  She  had 
found  the  key  in  the  lock  which  Brett  had  left  there. 
By  this  time  the  storm  had  reached  the  farm.  There 
was  a  high  wind  with  heavy  drops  of  rain.  Miss  May- 
nard, unconscious  that  there  was  a  dead  man  upstairs, 
and  Grange  and  his  wife  on  the  floor  above,  lighted 
the  candle  on  the  hallstand,  and  then  took  it  into 
the  sitting-room,  where  Brett  had  got  out  of  the  house. 
She  sat  down  to  wait  for  the  appearance  of  Brett 


228      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

and  Lumsden.  No  doubt  the  fact  that  she  had  found 
the  key  in  the  door  convinced  her  that  they  were  in 
the  outbuildings.  According  to  the  Granges'  story, 
Miss  Maynard  arrived  less  than  ten  minutes  after 
Brett's  final  trip  downstairs,  and  about  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  after  her  arrival  there  came  a  knock  at  the 
front  door.  This  was  Captain  Marsland. 

"The  rest  of  the  story  we  know,  from  Captain  Mars- 
land's  statement  to  Westaway,  the  only  thing  that  is 
wrong  with  it  being  his  omission  of  all  mention  of 
Miss  Maynard.  Grange,  bending  over  the  stairs  to 
watch,  knocked  down  the  picture  that  made  such  a 
crash.  When  Captain  Marsland  and  Miss  Maynard 
found  the  body,  she  knew  immediately  that  Brett  must 
have  had  something  to  do  with  the  tragedy,  and  there- 
fore she  asked  Captain  Marsland  to  say  nothing  about 
her  presence  there.  If  he  had  done  so  she  would 
have  had  to  give  us  an  account  of  her  movements,  and 
the  object  of  her  visit  there,  and  all  this  would  have 
directed  suspicion  to  Brett. 

"Not  till  half  an  hour  after  Grange  and  his  wife 
heard  the  door  close,  when  Captain  Marsland  ana  Miss 
Maynard  departed,  did  they  venture  downstairs.  They 
looked  in  at  the  room  in  which  the  body  had  been 
taken,  and  by  the  light  of  matches  they  saw  the  dead 
man  in  the  chair.  They  got  away  from  the  house 
as  fast  as  they  could.  They  found  the  path  down  the 
cliff,  and  while  Grange  was  helping  his  wife  down 
it  his  hat  blew  off.  He  thought  nothing  of  this  at  the 
time.  In  the  old  boat-house  at  the  foot  of  the  cliff 
they  found  Pedro,  who  had  been  sheltering  there  from 
the  storm.  They  waited  in  the  boat-house  until  the 
storm  abated,  and  about  nine  o'clock  they  pushed  off 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      229 

in  the  boat  for  Staveley,  which  they  were  unable  to 
reach  until  nearly  midnight,  owing  to  the  rough  sea 
running. 

"They  decided  to  say  nothing  about  what  they  knew, 
their  intention  being  to  keep  out  of  the  whole  affair. 
They  were  afraid  that  they  would  be  worried  a  great 
deal  by  the  police  if  they  said  anything,  and  they  were 
still  more  afraid  that  the  fact  that  they  had  been  con- 
nected with  a  murder  would  ruin  their  business.  In 
the  morning  old  Pedro  was  sent  over  to  the  landing- 
place  to  find  the  hat  Grange  had  lost." 

"A  very  interesting  story,"  said  Crewe. 

"It  is,"  said  Gillett  with  pride  in  his  success  as  a 
narrator.  "And  it  won't  lose  much  in  dramatic  in- 
terest when  it  is  unfolded  in  evidence  at  the  trial.  In 
fact,  I  think  it  will  gain  in  interest.  What  a  shock 
it  will  be  to  Brett  when  he  finds  that  he  was  seen 
carrying  the  body  of  Lumsden  upstairs!" 

"You  are  convinced  that  Brett  was  the  murderer?" 
asked  Crewe. 

"Absolutely  certain.    Aren't  you  ?" 

"No." 

Detective  Gillett  stared  in  surprise  at  the  inscrutable 
face  of  the  man  whose  powers  of  deduction  he  had 
learned  to  look  on  with  admiring  awe.  Sergeant  West- 
away,  whose  legs  had  become  cramped  owing  to  his 
uncomfortable  attitude  in  a  low  chair,  shifted  his 
position  uneasily,  and  also  looked  intently  at  Crewe. 

"Then  whom  do  you  suspect?"  exclaimed  Gillett  in 
astonishment. 

"Suspect?"  said  Crewe  with  a  slight  note  of  pro- 
test in  his  voice.  "I  suspect  no  one.  Suspicions  in 
regard  to  this,  that  and  the  other  merely  cloud  the 


230      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

view.  Let  us  look  at  the  facts  and  see  what  they 
prove." 

"I  don't  think  you  want  better  proof  of  murder 
than  that  the  man  who  was  seen  carrying  the  body 
of  the  murdered  man  subsequently  disappears,  in  order 
to  escape  being  questioned  by  the  police." 

"It  looks  what  you  call  suspicious,"  said  Crewe,  "but 
it  is  not  proof.  You  assume  that  Brett  is  the  mur- 
derer, but  you  do  not  know  any  of  the  circumstances 
under  which  the  crime  was  committed." 

"Lumsden  was  walking  along  the  road  to  meet 
Brett.  They  did  meet,  and  in  discussing  this  seance 
they  quarrelled  about  the  division  of  the  money." 

"But  why  quarrel  about  dividing  the  money  before 
the  money  was  found?  They  already  had  had  some 
disappointments  about  finding  the  money." 

"They  may  have  quarrelled  about  something  else. 
But  why  did  Brett  disappear,  and  why  did  he  take 
the  body  to  the  farm  and  endeavour  to  manufacture 
misleading  clues  ?" 

"I  admit  that  his  conduct  is  suspicious — that  it  is 
difficult  to  account  for.  But  if  he  is  guilty — if  he  shot 
Lumsden  on  the  road  or  when  they  were  driving  along 
the  road — why  did  he  take  the  body  to  the  farm 
where  it  was  sure  to  be  discovered,  as  he  knew  the 
Granges  were  to  get  there  by  6  p.  m?  Wouldn't  it 
have  been  better  for  him  to  hide  the  body  in  a  field 
or  a  ditch?  That  would  have  given  him  more  time 
to  escape." 

"He  took  the  body  to  the  farm  for  the  purpose  of 
making  us  believe  that  the  murder  was  committed 
there,"  rejoined  Gillett  slowly  and  positively. 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      231 

"And  then  disappeared  in  order  to  direct  the  po- 
lice suspicions  to  himself,"  said  Crewe. 

"No  doubt  he  was  inconsistent,"  Gillett  admitted. 
"But  a  murderer  manufacturing  false  clues  would 
scarcely  be  in  the  frame  of  mind  to  think  out  every- 
thing beforehand.  The  object  of  leaving  false  clues 
was  to  get  sufficient  time  to  escape.  Surely,  Mr. 
Crewe,  you  are  not  going  to  say  that  you  believe  Brett 
had  nothing  to  do  with  the  murder — that  he  is  an  inno- 
cent man  ?" 

"I  believe  that  he  knows  more  about  the  crime  than 
you  or  I,  and  that  he  disappeared  in  order  to  escape 
being  placed  in  a  position  in  which  he  would  have 
to  tell  most  of  what  he  knows." 

"And  another  person  who  knows  a  great  deal  about 
the  crime  is  Miss  Maynard,"  said  Gillett. 

"Yes.  I  think  you  have  some  awkward  questions 
to  ask  her." 

"I  have,"  replied  the  Scotland  Yard  representative 
emphatically. 

"You  might  ask  her  where  she  got  Marsland's  eye- 
glasses that  she  dropped  down  the  well.  The  boots 
and  revolver  she  got  from  Brett — or  perhaps  Brett 
dropped  them  there  himself  on  the  night  of  the  mur- 
der. But  the  eyeglasses  are  a  different  thing." 

"She  may  have  picked  them  up  in  the  house,  or 
along  the  garden  path.  I  understand  that  Captain 
Marsland  lost  a  pair  of  glasses  that  night." 

"He  did,  but  not  the  pair  that  were  found  in  the 
well.  The  pair  that  he  lost  that  night  he  has  not 
found,  but  the  pair  you  found  in  the  well  were  in  his 
possession  for  nearly  a  week  after  the  murder.  He 


232      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

is  quite  sure  on  that  point,  but  does  not  know  where 
he  lost  them." 

"Of  course,  he  knows  that  it  was  Miss  Maynard 
who  tried  to  direct  our  suspicions  to  him?"  asked 
Gillett. 

"I  told  him  very  little,  and  what  I  did  tell  him  was 
for  the  purpose  of  satisfying  him  on  a  few  minor 
points.  That  was  implied  in  my  promise  to  you.  But 
he  asked  about  her  before  I  had  mentioned  her  name. 
He  asked  if  you  had  seen  her." 

"And  I  suppose  he  was  very  indignant  with  her  ?" 

"No.  He  took  it  all  very  calmly.  His  calmness,  his 
indifference,  struck  me  as  remarkable  in  one  who  has 
suffered  from  nervous  shock." 

"I  would  like  to  apologize  to  him  if  he  is  any- 
where about — if  it  is  not  too  much  trouble  to  send 
for  him." 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Crewe.  He  touched  the  bell,  and 
when  the  parlour  maid  appeared,  he  sent  her  in  search 
of  Captain  Marsland. 

The  young  man  entered  the  room  a  few  minutes 
later  in  evening  dress,  and  nodded  cheerfully  to  the 
two  police  officials.  He  listened  with  a  forgiving 
smile  to  Detective  Gillett's  halting  apology  for  having 
believed  that  he  had  endeavoured  to  mislead  the  po- 
lice in  the  statement  made  to  Sergeant  Westaway  on 
the  night  of  the  murder. 

"Miss  Maynard  will  find  that  she  has  over-reached 
herself,"  said  Gillett  to  the  young  man  in  conclu- 
sion. "I  will  look  her  up  in  the  morning  and  frighten 
the  truth  out  of  her.  She  knows  more  about  the 
crime  than  any  one — except  Brett.  As  far  as  I  can 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      233 

see  she  will  be  lucky  if  she  escapes  arrest  as  an  ac- 
complice." 

"Have  you  ever  considered,  Gillett,  the  possibility 
of  her  having  been  the  principal?"  asked  Crewe. 

"No,"  said  the  detective,  who  obviously  was  sur- 
prised at  the  suggestion.  "Do  you  think  that  she 
fired  the  shot ;  that  she  and  Brett  are  both  in  it  ?" 

"She  fits  into  the  tragedy  in  a  remarkable  way — she 
fits  into  the  story  told  by  the  Granges." 

"Yes,"  said  the  detective  doubtfully.    "She  does." 

"Let  us  attempt  to  reconstruct  the  crime  with  her 
as  the  person  who  fired  the  shot,"  continued  Crewe. 
"Mrs.  Grange  was  to  hold  a  seance  at  the  farmhouse 
about  6  p.  m.  Lumsden,  Brett  and  this  girl  were  to 
be  present.  Lumsden  walked  along  the  road  to 
Staveley  in  the  expectation  of  meeting  Brett,  who 
was  to  drive  over  in  a  motor  car.  Miss  Maynard, 
who  was  a  good  walker,  set  out  from  Ashlingsea. 
She  left  early  in  the  afternoon,  in  the  expectation 
that  Brett  would  be  at  the  farmhouse  early.  She  found 
no  one  there  and  then  set  out  along  the  Staveley  road 
to  meet  Brett.  He  was  late  in  starting  from  Staveley, 
and  she  met  Lumsden,  who,  perhaps,  was  returning 
along  the  road.  They  decided  to  sit  down  for  a  little 
while  and  wait  for  Brett.  Lumsden,  who  was  in  love 
with  her,  was  overcome  by  passion,  and  seized  her  in 
his  arms.  There  was  a  struggle  in  which  the  revolver 
that  Lumsden  carried  fell  out  of  his  belt.  She  picked 
it  up  and  in  desperation  shot  him.  A  few  minutes  later 
Brett  arrived  in  his  car.  He  was  horrified  at  what 
had  occurred  but  his  first  thought  was  to  save  the 
girl  he  loved  from  the  consequences  of  her  act.  He 
lifted  the  body  of  Lumsden  into  the  car,  and  with  Miss 


234      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

Maynard  beside  him  on  the  front  seat,  drove  to  the 
farmhouse.  She  waited  in  the  car  while  he  carried 
the  body  into  the  house,  and  took  steps  for  giving  the 
impression  that  Lumsden  was  shot  by  some  one  who 
broke  into  the  house.  Then  he  went  back  to  the  car, 
and  after  giving  the  girl  his  final  directions  bade  her 
a  tender  farewell.  She  entered  the  house  and  waited 
in  accordance  with  the  plan  Brett  had  thought  out. 
She  expected  the  Granges  to  arrive  at  any  moment; 
she  did  not  know  they  were  hiding  upstairs.  Brett's 
plan  was  that  she  and  the  Granges  should  discover 
the  body.  That  would  clear  her  of  suspicion  of  com- 
plicity in  the  tragedy.  Marsland  came  to  the  house, 
and  for  Miss  Maynard's  purpose  he  suited  her  bet- 
ter than  the  Granges  because  he  took  on  himself  the 
discovery  of  the  body  and,  at  her  request,  kept  her 
name  out  of  it  to  the  police.  Brett  disappeared  that 
night,  ostensibly  on  secret  service  work.  His  object 
was  to  shield  his  fiancee  by  directing  suspicion  to  him- 
self." 

"I  don't  think  Brett  is  capable  of  such  chivalry," 
said  Marsland. 

"It  is  a  very  ingenious  theory,  very  ingenious,  in- 
deed," said  Gillett.  "I  don't  say  that  it  is  absolutely 
correct,  Mr.  Crewe,  but  the  reconstruction  is  very 
clever.  What  do  you  say,  Westaway  ?" 

"Very  ingenious — very  clever,"  said  the  Sergeant. 
"Only  it  is  no  good  asking  me  to  believe  that  Miss 
Maynard  did  it;  I  could  never  bring  myself  to  be- 
lieve that  she  was  capable  of  it.  I  have  known  her 
since  she  was  a  litle  girl.  She  is  the  daughter  of  a 
highly  respected " 

"We  know  all  about  that,"  said  Gillett  impatiently. 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      235 

"But  lots  of  highly  respectable  people  commit  mur- 
der, Westaway.  Even  among  the  criminal  classes 
there  are  no  professional  murderers.  I'll  see  this 
young  lady  in  the  morning,  Mr.  Crewe,  and  let  you 
know  the  result.  I  think  I  can  promise  that  I'll 
shake  the  truth  out  of  her." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

DETECTIVE  GILLETT  cycled  across  to  Ashlingsea  the 
following  morning,  after  spending  the  night  in  Staveley 
as  the  guest  of  Inspector  Murchison.  The  morning 
was  clear,  the  downs  were  fresh  and  green  beneath  a 
blue  sky,  and  the  sea  lapped  gently  at  the  foot  of  the 
cliffs.  In  the  bay  the  white  sails  of  several  small  boats 
stood  out  against  the  misty  horizon.  But  Detective  Gil- 
lett  saw  none  of  these  things.  His  mind  was  too  busily 
engaged  in  turning  over  the  latest  aspects  of  the  Cliff 
Farm  case  to  be  susceptible  to  the  influences  of  na- 
ture. 

He  reached  Ashlingsea  after  an  hour's  ride  and  de- 
cided to  call  on  Miss  Maynard  before  going  to  the 
police  station.  The  old  stone  house  and  its  grounds 
lay  still  and  clear  in  the  morning  sun.  The  carriage 
gates  were  open  and  Gillett  cycled  up  the  winding 
gravel  drive.  The  house  looked  silent  and  deserted, 
but  the  shutters  which  protected  the  front  windows 
were  unclosed,  and  a  large  white  peacock  strutting  on 
the  lawn  in  front  of  the  house  uttered  harsh  cries  at 
the  sight  of  the  man  on  a  bicycle. 

The  bird's  cries  brought  a  rosy-cheeked  maidservant 
to  the  front  door,  who  stared  curiously  at  Gillett  as 
he  jumped  off  his  bicycle  and  approached  her.  A  re- 
quest for  Miss  Maynard  brought  a  doubtful  shake  of 
tlie  head  from  the  girl,  so  Gillett  produced  his  card 
and  asked  her  to  take  it  to  her  mistress.  The  girl 

236 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      237 

took  the  card,  and  shortly  returned  with  the  announce- 
ment that  Mrs.  Maynard  would  see  him.  She  ushered 
him  into  a  large,  handsomely  furnished  room  and 
left  him. 

A  few  minutes  afterwards  Gillett  heard  the  sound 
of  tapping  in  the  hall  outside  the  door.  Then  the 
door  was  opened  by  the  maid  who  had  admitted  Gil- 
lett, and  he  saw  an  elderly  lady,  with  refined  features 
and  grey  hair,  looking  at  him  with  haughty  dark  eyes. 
She  was  leaning  on  an  ebony  stick,  and  as  she  advanced 
into  the  room  the  detective  saw  that  she  was  lame. 

"I  wanted  to  see  Miss  Maynard,"  said  Gillett,  mak- 
ing the  best  bow  of  which  he  was  capable. 

"You  cannot  see  my  daughter."  She  uttered  the 
words  in  such  a  manner  as  to  give  Gillett  the  impres- 
sion that  she  was  speaking  to  somebody  some  distance 
away. 

"Why  not?" 

"She  is  not  at  home." 

"Where   is   she?" 

"That  I  cannot  tell  you." 

"When  will  she  return?" 

"I  do  not  know." 

"But,  madam,  I  must  know,"  replied  Gillett. 
"Your  daughter  has  placed  herself  in  a  very  serious 
position  by  the  statement  she  made  to  the  police  con- 
cerning the  Cliff  Farm  murder,  and  it  is  important  that 
I  should  see  her  at  once.  Where  is  she?" 

"I  decline  to  tell  you." 

"You  are  behaving  very  foolishly,  madam,  in  taking 
this  course.  Surely  you  do  not  think  she  can  evade 
me  by  hiding  from  me.  If  that  is  her  attitude  I  will 
deal  with  it  by  taking  out  a  warrant  for  her  arrest." 


238      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

"I  must  decline  to  discuss  the  matter  any  further 
with  you." 

Mrs.  Maynard  moved  towards  the  bell  as  she  spoke, 
as  though  she  would  ring  for  a  servant  to  show  the 
detective  out  of  the  house.  Gillett,  seeing  that  further 
argument  was  useless,  did  not  wait  for  the  servant  to 
be  summoned,  but  left  the  room  without  another 
word. 

He  rode  down  to  the  Ashlingsea  police  station,  with 
an  uneasy  feeling  that  his  plans  for  the  capture  of 
Brett  were  not  destined  to  work  out  as  smoothly  as  he 
had  hoped.  It  had  seemed  to  him  a  simple  matter 
then  to  see  Miss  Maynard  in  the  morning,  "frighten 
the  truth  out  of  her,"  ascertain  from  her  where  her 
lover  was  hiding,  and  have  him  arrested  as  quickly  as 
the  telegraph  wires  could  apprise  the  police  in  the 
particular  locality  he  had  chosen  for  his  retreat.  But 
he  had  overlooked  the  possibility  of  the  hitch  he  had 
just  encountered.  Obviously  the  girl,  in  finding  that 
Marsland  had  not  been  arrested,  had  begun  to  think 
that  her  plans  had  miscarried  and  had  therefore  de- 
cided to  evade  making  any  further  statement  to  the 
police  as  long  as  she  could. 

Gillett  was  hopeful  that  Sergeant  Westaway,  with 
his  local  knowledge,  would  be  able  to  tell  him  where 
she  was  likely  to  seek  seclusion  in  order  to  escape  being 
questioned. 

He  had  not  conceived  the  possibility  of  Miss  May- 
nard having  taken  fright  and  disappeared  from  the 
town,  because  he  deemed  it  impossible  that  she  could 
have  known  that  he  was  aware  how  she  had  tried 
to  hoodwink  the  police.  Yet  that  was  the  news  that 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      239 

Sergeant  Westaway  conveyed  to  him  when  he  men- 
tioned the  young  lady's  name. 

"She  left  Ashlingsea  by  the  last  train  from  here 
last  night — the  9.30  to  Staveley,  which  connects  with 
the  last  train  to  London." 

"What!"  exclaimed  the  detective.  "Do  you  mean 
to  tell  me  you've  let  the  girl  slip  out  of  your  hands? 
Why  the  blazes  didn't  you  stop  her  from  going?'* 

"How  was  I  to  stop  her?"  replied  the  sergeant,  in 
resentment  at  the  imperative  tone  in  which,  the  de- 
tective spoke.  "I  didn't  get  home  from  Staveley  last 
night  until  nearly  ten  o'clock  and  after  looking  in  here 
I  went  straight  to  bed.  The  station-master  told  me 
about  an  hour  ago  that  she  had  gone.  She  came  along 
just  before  the  train  started,  and  he  put  her  in  a  car- 
riage himself.  He  thought  it  a  bit  strange,  so  he 
mentioned  it  to  me  when  I  was  down  on  the  station 
this  morning.  I  rang  up  Inspector  Murchison  in  order 
to  let  you  know,  but  he  told  me  you'd  left  for  here." 

"She's  gone  to  warn  Brett — she's  in  London  by 
now,"  said  Gillett.  "The  question  is  how  did  she  get 
to  know  that  I  was  coming  over  to  see  her  this  morn- 
ing and  expose  the  tissue  oi  lies  in  her  statement  to 
you.  How  did  she  get  to  know  that  the  game  was  up  ? 
You've  said  nothing  to  anybody,  Westaway,  about  the 
conversation  that  took  place  last  night  at  Sir  George 
Granville's  house?" 

"Of  course  I've  said  nothing,"  replied  Sergeant 
Westaway.  "She  had  gone  almost  before  I  got  back 
here  last  night." 

"It  beats  me,"  said  Gillett.  "Who  could  have 
warned  her?" 

He  picked  up  the  telephone  book  off  the  office  table, 


240      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

and  turned  its  leaves  hurriedly.  When  he  had  found 
the  number  he  wanted  he  took  up  the  telephone  and 
spoke  into  the  receiver. 

"Double  one  eight  Staveley,  and  be  quick.  Is  that 
Sir  George  Granville's?  Is  Mr.  Crewe  in?  Yes,  at 
once  please.  Is  that  you,  Mr.  Crewe?  It's  Gillett 
speaking.  The  girl  has  gone — cleared  out.  I  cannot 
say :  I've  no  idea.  What's  that  you  say?  Oh,  yes,  I'll 
telephone  to  Scotland  Yard  and  tell  them  to  keep  a 
look  out  for  her,  but  I  am  afraid  it  won't  be  of  much 
use — she's  had  too  long  a  start.  But  it's  now  more 
necessary  than  ever  that  we  should  act  quickly  if  we 
hope  to  lay  our  hands  on  the  man.  I  think  the  first 
thing  to  be  done  is  to  make  a  thorough  search  of  the 
cliff  road  for  the  actual  spot  where  the  job  was  done. 
Oh,  you  have?  By  Jove,  that's  good!  I'd  be  glad  if 
you'd  come  with  me  then,  because  it's  on  your  theory 
that  it  was  done  away  from  the  house  that  I'm  work- 
ing " 

Police  Constable  Heather  entered  the  office  at  this 
point  with  a  message  for  his  superior  officer.  Sergeant 
Westaway,  divided  by  anxiety  to  hear  the  telephone 
conversation  and  a  determination  that  his  subordinate 
should  not  hear  it,  imperiously  motioned  Constable 
Heather  away.  But  as  Constable  Heather  misunder- 
stood the  motion  and  showed  no  inclination  to  depart, 
Sergeant  Westaway  hurriedly  led  him  out  of  the  of- 
fice into  the  front  garden,  heard  what  he  had  to  say, 
and  dismissed  him  with  the  mandate  that  he  was  on 
no  account  to  be  interrupted  again.  He  then  returned 
to  the  office,  but  the  telephone  conversation  was  fin- 
ished, and  Detective  Gillett  was  seated  in  the  ser- 
geant's office  chair,  looking  over  a  document  which 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      241 

Sergeant  Westaway  recognized  as  Miss  Maynard's 
statement. 

"Crewe's  going  to  drive  us  along  the  cliff  road  this 
afternoon  to  see  if  we  can  locate  the  spot  where  Lums- 
den  was  shot,"  said  the  detective,  restoring  Miss 
Maynard's  statement  to  his  pocket-book  and  look- 
ing up.  "I've  arranged  to  meet  him  the  other  side 
of  the  cutting  at  the  top  of  the  farm,  and  we  will  drive 
back  along  the  road  in  his  car." 

"Did  Mr.  Crewe  express  any  opinion  as  to  who — 
who  had  warned  Miss  Maynard  to  take  to  flight?" 
asked  Sergeant  Westaway  eagerly. 

"That  was  not  a  matter  for  discussion  through  the 
telephone,"  responded  Gillett  curtly.  "I'll  talk  it  over 
with  him  this  afternoon.  I'll  call  for  you  here,  at  two 
o'clock.  I've  several  things  to  do  in  the  meantime." 

They  met  again  at  the  appointed  hour  and  cycled 
along  as  far  as  Cliff  Farm,  where  they  put  up  their 
bicycles.  Then  they  walked  up  the  hill  from  the 
farm.  At  the  end  of  the  cutting,  they  saw  Crewe's  big 
white  car,  stationary,  and  Crewe  and  Marsland  stand- 
ing on  the  greensward  smoking  cigars.  The  two  po- 
lice officers  advanced  to  meet  them. 

"It's  a  bit  of  very  bad  luck  about  this  girl  disappear- 
ing, Mr.  Crewe,"  said  Gillett.  "What  do  you  make 
of  it?  Westaway  thinks  she  may  have  gone  to  stay 
with  friends  at  Staveley,  and  that  her  departure  at 
this  juncture  is  merely  a  coincidence." 

"Miss  Maynard  would  not  pay  a  visit  to  friends  by 
the  last  train  at  night,"  said  Crewe. 

"Then  somebody  warned  her  that  the  game  was  up 
and  that  safety  lay  in  flight." 

"I'm  afraid  that's  the  only  reasonable  explanation 

R 


242      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

for  her  disappearance,"  replied  Crewe.  "But  who 
warned  her?" 

"That's  the  point !"  exclaimed  Gillett.  "I  have  been 
thinking  it  over  ever  since  1  discovered  she  had  gone, 
and  I've  come  to  the  conclusion  that  it  must  have  been 
that  infernal  little  dwarf  or  her  husband,  though  what 
is  their  object  is  by  no  means  clear.  Who  else  could  it 
have  been?  The  only  other  people  who  know  that  I 
intended  to  unmask  her  are  yourself,  Westaway  and 
Mr.  Marsland.  By  a  process  of  elimination  suspicion 
points  to  the  Granges." 

Crewe  did  not  reply.  While  Gillett  was  speaking  a 
flash  of  that  inspiration  which  occasionally  came  to  him 
when  he  was  groping  in  the  dark  for  light  revealed 
to  him  the  key  by  which  the  jigsaw  of  clues,  incidents, 
hints,  suspicions,  and  evidence  in  the  Cliff  Farm  mur- 
der could  be  pieced  together.  But  the  problem  was 
one  of  extraordinary  intricacy,  and  he  needed  time  to 
see  if  all  the  pieces  would  fit  into  the  pattern. 

It  was  at  Detective  Gillett's  suggestion  that  they 
walked  up  to  the  top  of  the  hill,  to  the  headland  where 
Marsland's  horse  had  taken  fright  on  the  night  of  the 
storm. 

He  took  Crewe's  arm  and  walked  ahead  with  him, 
leaving  the  sergeant  to  follow  with  Marsland.  As 
they  went  along,  he  unconsciously  revealed  the  extent 
of  his  dependence  on  Crewe's  stronger  intelligence  by 
laying  before  him  the  remaining  difficulties  regarding 
the  case.  His  chief  concern  was  lest  Miss  Maynard 
should  warn  Brett  in  time  to  enable  him  to  slip 
through  the  net  which  had  been  woven  for  him.  To 
Crewe's  inquiry  whether  the  London  police  had  come 
across  any  trace  of  him  he  shook  his  head. 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      243 

"No,  he  is  lying  low,  wherever  he  is.  My  own  be- 
lief is  that  he  has  not  gone  to  London,  but  that  he  is 
hidden  somewhere  in  the  Staveley  district.  I  shall 
look  for  him  here,  and  Scotland  Yard  is  watching  his 
London  haunts.  He's  a  pretty  bad  egg,  you  know. 
We've  a  record  of  him  at  Scotland  Yard." 

"What  has  he  done  ?" 

"He's  identical  with  a  fashionable  rogue  and  swind- 
ler who,  under  the  name  of  Delancey,  kept  a  night  club 
and  a  gambling  hell  in  Piccadilly,  during  the  first  year 
of  the  war.  We  had  reasons  for  closing  the  place 
without  a  prosecution,  and  Delancey,  instead  of  being 
sent  to  gaol,  was  allowed  to  enlist.  He  returned  to 
England  a  few  months  ago,  invalided  out  of  the  army, 
where  he  was  known  under  the  name  of  Powell.  Since 
then  he  has  been  employed  by  the  Government  in 
secret  service  work:  mixing  with  the  Germans  who 
are  still  at  large  in  this  country,  and  getting  informa- 
tion about  German  spies.  He  was  given  this  work  to 
do  because  he  speaks  German  so  fluently  that  he  can 
pass  as  a  German  amongst  Germans. 

"I  suppose  this  girl  Maynard  will  try  to  join  him 
wherever  he  is,"  resumed  Gillett,  after  a  pause.  "It's 
a  queer  thing,  don't  you  think,  for  a  well-brought-up 
English  girl  of  good  family  to  make  such  a  fool  of 
herself  over  an  unmitigated  scoundrel  like  Delancey  or 
Brett,  or  Powell,  or  whatever  he  calls  himself?  From 
what  I  have  learnt  up  at  Staveley  this  girl  first  met 
Brett  about  three  months  ago.  I  do  not  know  how  they 
came  to  know  each  other,  but  from  her  visit  to  Cliff 
Farm  on  the  night  of  the  murder  I  think  that  Lumsden 
must  have  introduced  them.  There  was  some  bond  be- 
tween Brett  and  Lumsden  which  I  have  been  unable  to 


244      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

fathom.  It  is  true  they  knew  each  other  through  being 
in  the  army  together,  but  that  fact  doesn't  account  for 
their  continued  association  afterwards,  because  there 
was  nothing  in  common  between  the  two  men:  Brett 
was  a  double-dyed  scoundrel,  and  Lumsden  was  a 
simple,  quiet  sort  of  chap. 

"It  may  have  been  the  attraction  of  opposites,  or, 
it  is  more  likely  that  Lumsden  knew  nothing  about 
Brett's  past,"  continued  Gillett.  "Brett  was  certainly 
not  likely  to  reveal  it,  more  especially  after  he  met  the 
girl,  because  then  he  would  keep  up  his  friendship  with 
Lumsden  in  order  to  have  opportunities  of  meeting  her 
at  Cliff  Farm.  She  also  used  to  visit  Brett  at  Staveley ; 
they've  been  seen  together  there  several  times.  Ap- 
parently it  was  Brett's  idea  to  keep  his  meetings  with 
this  girl  as  secret  as  possible,  and  for  that  reason  he 
used  to  see  her  at  Cliff  Farm  with  Lumsden's  con- 
nivance. Nevertheless,  he  was  not  altogether  success- 
ful in  keeping  his  love  affair  dark.  On  two  occasions 
he  was  seen  walking  with  the  girl  on  Ashlingsea  downs, 
not  far  from  her  mother's  house,  and  there's  been 
some  local  gossip  in  consequence — you  know  what 
these  small  country  places  are  for  gossip." 

"You've  put  this  part  of  the  case  together  very 
well,"  said  Crewe. 

"Oh,  it's  not  so  bad,"  Gillett  laughed  complacently. 
"Of  course  it  was  Scotland  Yard  that  fished  up  all 
that  about  Brett's  antecedents.  I  flatter  myself  that 
we  do  that  kind  of  thing  better  in  London  than  any- 
where: it's  difficult  for  a  man  to  get  rid  of  a  shady 
past  in  England.  However,  I'd  be  more  satisfied  with 
my  work  if  I  had  Brett  under  lock  and  key.  What  a 
fool  I  was  not  to  go  straight  across  to  that  girl's  house 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      245 

last  night  after  I  saw  you,  instead  of  waiting  till  the 
morning!" 

"It  wouldn't  have  made  much  difference:  I  think 
she  was  warned  by  telephone,  and  probably  the  per- 
son who  warned  her  knew  you  did  not  intend  to  look 
her  up  until  the  morning.  If  you  had  altered  your 
plans  she  would  have  altered  hers." 

"I  could  have  telephoned  to  have  her  stopped  at 
Victoria  or  London  Bridge." 

"Not  much  use,"  responded  Crewe,  with  a  shake  of 
the  head.  "She  wouldn't  have  revealed  Brett's  hid- 
ing-place." 

"I'd  have  kept  her  under  lock  and  key  to  prevent 
her  warning  him,"  said  Gillett  viciously. 

"Quite  useless.  Her  detention  would  have  been  no- 
tified in  the  press.  Brett  would  have  taken  warning 
and  disappeared.  By  the  way,  Gillett,  I'll  be  glad  if 
you  will  refrain  from  referring  to  the  doubt  I  formerly 
expressed  about  Brett's  guilt.  And  I  must  ask  West- 
away  to  do  the  same." 

"I  thought  you'd  come  round  to  my  way  of  think- 
ing," said  Gillett.  "It  was  plain  to  me  that  it  couldn't 
be  anyone  but  Brett.  However,  you  can  rest  assured 
I  won't  try  to  rub  it  in.  We  all  make  mistakes  at  this 
game,  but  some  don't  care  to  acknowledge  a  mistake 
as  candidly  as  you  have  done,  Mr.  Crewe." 

The  cliffs  rose  to  a  height  of  three  hundred  feet  at 
this  part  of  the  road,  and  a  piece  of  headland  jutted 
out  a  hundred  yards  or  so  into  the  sea — a  narrow  strip 
of  crumbling  sandstone  rock,  running  almost  to  a 
point,  with  sea-worn  sides,  dropping  perpendicularly  to 
the  deep  water  below.  Just  past  the  headland,  on  the 
Staveley  side,  the  road  ran  along  the  edge  of  the  cliffs 


246      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

for  some  distance,  the  side  nearest  to  the  sea  being  pro- 
tected by  a  low  fence,  and  flanked  by  "Danger"  notices 
at  each  end.  Crewe  pointed  out  the  danger  post  which 
had  been  knocked  out  of  the  perpendicular — it  was  the 
one  nearest  to  the  headland. 

Detective  Gillett  examined  it  very  closely,  and  when 
Marsland  and  the  Sergeant  joined  them  he  asked  Mars- 
land  if  he  could  point  out  to  him  the  exact  spot  where 
his  horse  had  taken  fright  on  the  night  of  the  storm. 

"I  think  it  was  somewhere  about  here,  Crewe? 
It  was  about  here  we  saw  the  hoofmarks,  wasn't  it?" 

Crewe  measured  the  distance  with  a  rule  he  had 
brought  with  him  from  the  motor-car. 

"A  trifle  more  to  this  way — about  here,"  he  said  at 
length. 

Gillett  glanced  over  the  edge  of  the  cliff,  and  at  the 
white  water  breaking  over  the  jagged  tooth-pointed 
rocks  nearly  three  hundred  feet  below. 

"By  Jove,  you  can  congratulate  yourself  that  you 
happened  to  be  on  the  right  side  of  the  road,"  he 
said,  addressing  himself  to  Marsland.  "If  you'd  gone 
over  there,  you  wouldn't  have  stood  much  chance." 

"It  was  purely  good  fortune,  or  my  horse's  instinct," 
laughed  Marsland.  "The  road  was  so  dark  that  I 
didn't  know  where  I  was  myself.  I  couldn't  see  a 
hand's  turn  in  front  of  me." 

"The  marks  of  the  car  wheels  ran  off  the  road  at 
this  point,  bumped  into  the  post,  and  then  ran  on  to  the 
road  again."  Crewe  traced  the  course  with  his  stick. 
"Brett  had  a  narrower  escape  than  Marsland.  It's  a 
wonder  that  the  impact  didn't  knock  away  that  crazy 
bit  of  fencing." 

"When  Brett  is  on  his  trial  it  will  be  necessary  for 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      247 

the  jury  to  visit  this  spot,"  said  Sergeant  Westaway 
solemnly. 

"We've  got  to  catch  the  beggar  first,"  grumbled  Gil- 
lett.  "But  let's  get  along  and  see  if  we  can  hit  upon 
the  spot  where  the  murder  was  actually  committed. 
How  far  along  is  it,  Mr.  Crewe,  to  where  the  country- 
man you  talked  to  saw  him  pass  ?" 

"A  little  more  than  five  miles  from  here." 

"Then  somewhere  between  the  two  places  the  mur- 
der must  have  been  committed,  I  should  say." 

"I  know  the  place — approximately,"  replied  Crewe, 
"I've  been  over  the  ground  several  times,  and  I've  been 
able  to  fix  on  it  more  or  less  definitely." 

"How  did  you  fix  it  ?"  asked  Gillett  curiously. 

"I  had  several  clues  to  help  me,"  replied  Crewe,  in  a 
non-committal  voice.  "Let  us  get  back  to  the  car  and 
I  will  drive  you  to  the  place." 

They  walked  back  to  the  car  and  drove  slowly  along 
the  winding  cliff  road.  About  two  miles  from  the 
danger  post  the  road  turned  slightly  inland,  and  ran 
for  a  quarter  of  a  mile  or  more  about  two  hundred 
yards  distant  from  the  edge  of  the  cliff.  At  this  point 
the  downs  began  to  rise  above  the  level  of  the  road,  and 
continued  to  do  so  until  they  were  above  the  heads  of 
the  party  in  the  car.  It  was  not  a  cutting;  merely  a 
steep  natural  inclination  of  the  land,  and  the  road 
skirted  the  foot  of  it  for  some  distance.  A  ragged 
fringe  of  beech-trees  grew  along  the  top  of  the  bank ; 
doubtless  they  had  been  planted  in  this  bare  exposed 
position  of  the  downs  to  act  as  a  wind  screen  for  the 
sheep  which  could  be  seen  grazing  higher  up  the  slope. 

Crewe  pulled  up  the  car  and  looked  about  him,  then 
turned  his  head  and  spoke  to  Gillett : 


248      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

"This  part  of  the  road  is  worth  examining.  There 
are  several  features  about  it  which  fit  in  with  my  con- 
ception of  the  scene  of  the  crime." 

The  four  men  got  out  of  the  car  and  walked  for- 
ward, looking  about  them.  Crewe  walked  a  little 
ahead,  with  his  eyes  roving  over  the  rising  bank  and 
the  trees  at  the  top.  Several  times  he  tried  to  clamber 
up  the  bank,  but  the  incline  was  too  steep. 

"What  are  you  trying  to  do  ?"  said  Gillett,  who  was 
watching  his  proceedings  curiously. 

"I  am  trying  to  fit  in  my  theory  of  the  crime  by 
actual  experiments.  If  I  can  satisfy  myself  that 
Lumsden  was  able  to  climb  this  bank  at  some  point 
I  believe  we  shall  have  reached  the  scene  of  the  mur- 
der." 

"But  why  is  it  necessary  to  prove  that  ?"  asked  Gil- 
lett, in  a  puzzled  voice.  "Brett  might  have  met  him 
on  the  road,  shot  him  from  the  car  which  had  been 
pulled  up,  and  then  carried  the  body  to  Cliff  Farm." 

"My  dear  Gillett,  have  you  forgotten  that  the  bullet 
which  killed  Lumsden  took  an  upward  course  after  en- 
tering the  body?  If  he  had  been  shot  from  the  car  it 
would  have  gone  downwards." 

"Damn  it !  I  forgot  all  about  that  point,"  exclaimed 
Gillett,  reddening  with  vexation. 

"Lumsden  couldn't  have  been  shot  on  the  road, 
either,  because  in  that  case  the  bullet  would  have  gone 
straight  through  him — unless  the  man  who  fired  the 
shot  knelt  down  in  the  road  and  fired  upwards  at  him, 
which  is  not  at  all  likely.  Furthermore,  Lumsden  was 
shot  in  the  back  low  down,  and  the  bullet  travelled  up- 
wards and  came  out  above  the  heart.  Therefore  we've 
got  to  try  and  visualize  a  scene  which  fits  in  with  these 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      249 

circumstances.  That's  why  I  have  been  looking  at  this 
bank  so  carefully.  Let  us  suppose  that  Lumsden  was 
walking  along  the  road  and  encountered  his  would-be 
slayer.  Lumsden  saw  the  revolver,  and  turned  to  run. 
He  thought  his  best  chance  of  escape  was  across  the 
downs,  so  he  dashed  towards  the  bank  and  sprang  up 
it.  He  had  almost  reached  the  top  when  the  shot  was 
fired.  That  seems  to  me  the  most  possible  way  of  ac- 
counting for  the  upward  course  of  the  bullet." 

"I  see,"  said  Gillett,  nodding  his  head.  "Brett  might 
have  fired  from  his  seat  in  his  car,  in  that  case." 

"Precisely,"  returned  Crewe.  "But  the  weak  point 
in  my  argument  is  that  so  far  we  have  not  reached  a 
point  in  the  bank  which  is  capable  of  being  scaled." 

"A  little  further  along  it  narrows  and  is  less  steep," 
said  Marsland,  who  had  been  listening  intently  to 
Crewe's  remarks.  "Come,  and  I  will  show  you." 

He  led  the  way  round  the  next  bend  of  the  road,  and 
pointed  out  a  spot  where  the  branches  of  the  trees 
which  formed  the  wind  screen  hung  down  over  the 
slope,  which  was  much  less  steep.  It  was  a  compara- 
tively easy  matter  to  scramble  up  the  bank  at  this 
point,  and  pull  oneself  up  on  to  the  downs  by  the  aid 
of  the  overhanging  branches. 

Crewe  made  the  experiment,  and  reached  the  top, 
without  difficulty;  so  did  Gillett.  Marsland  and  Ser- 
geant Westaway  remained  standing  in  the  road  below, 
watching  the  proceedings. 

The  downs  from  the  top  of  the  bank  swept  gradu- 
ally upwards  to  the  highest  point  of  that  part  of  the 
coast :  a  landmark  known  as  the  Giants'  Knoll,  a  lofty 
hill  surrounded  by  a  ring  of  dark  fir-trees,  which  gave 
the  bald  summit  the  appearance  of  a  monk's  tonsure. 


250      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

This  hill  commanded  an  extensive  view  of  the  Channel 
and  the  surrounding  country-side  on  a  clear  day.  But 
Detective  Gillett  was  not  interested  in  the  Giant's 
Knoll.  He  was  busily  engaged  examining  the  brush- 
wood and  dwarf  trees  forming  the  wind  screen  at  the 
point  where  they  had  scrambled  up.  Suddenly  he 
turned  and  beckoned  to  Crewe  with  an  air  of  some 
excitement. 

"Look  here !"  he  said,  as  Crewe  approached.  "This 
seems  to  bear  out  your  theory."  He  pointed  to  the 
branch  of  a  stunted  beech-tree,  which  had  been  torn 
away  from  the  parent  trunk,  but  still  hung  to  it,  with- 
ered and  lifeless,  attached  by  a  strip  of  bark. 

"If  Brett  shot  Lumsden  as  he  was  scrambling  up  the 
bank,  Lumsden  might  easily  have  torn  this  branch  off 
in  his  dying  struggle — the  instinct  to  clutch  at  some- 
thing— as  he  fell  back  into  the  road." 

"It's  possible,  but  it's  not  a  very  convincing  clue  by 
itself,"  returned  Crewe.  "It  might  just  as  easily  have 
been  torn  off  by  the  violence  of  the  storm.  The  thing 
is  to  follow  it  up.  If  Lumsden  was  shot  at  this  point 
the  bullet  which  went  through  him  may  have  lodged 
in  one  of  the  trees." 

Gillett  had  begun  to  search  among  the  scattered  trees 
at  the  top  of  the  bank  very  much  like  an  intelligent 
pointer  hunting  for  game.  He  examined  each  tree 
closely  from  the  bole  upwards.  Suddenly  he  gave  a 
shout  of  triumph. 

"Look  here,  Crewe." 

He  had  come  to  a  standstill  at  a  tree  which  stood  a 
few  yards  on  the  downs  away  from  the  wind  screen — a 
small  stunted  oak  with  low  and  twisted  branches.  Fair 
in  the  centre  of  its  gnarled  trunk  was  a  small  hole, 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      251 

which  Gillett  was  hacking  at  with  a  small  penknife. 
As  Crewe  reached  his  side,  he  triumphantly  extracted  a 
bullet  which  had  been  partly  flattened  by  contact  with 
the  tree. 

"By  Jove!"  he  exclaimed.  "What  a  piece  of  luck! 
What  a  piece  of  luck !" 

He  held  the  bullet  in  the  palm  of  his  left  hand, 
turning  it  over  and  over  with  the  penknife  which  he 
held  in  his  right.  He  was  so  absorbed  in  his  dis- 
covery, that  he  did  not  notice  Crewe  stoop  and  pick  up 
some  small  object  which  lay  in  the  grass  a  few  yards 
from  the  tree. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

CREWE  and  Marsland  sat  at  a  table  in  Sir  George 
Granville's  library  with  the  cryptogram  before  them. 
The  detective  was  absorbed  in  examining  it  through  a 
magnifying  glass,  but  Marsland  kept  glancing  from  the 
paper  to  his  companion's  face,  as  though  he  expected 
to  see  there  some  indication  of  an  immediate  solu- 
tion. Finally  he  remarked  in  a  tone  which  suggested 
he  was  unable  to  control  his  impatience  any  longer : 

"Well,  what  do  you  make  of  it  ?" 

"Not  very  much  as  yet,"  replied  Crewe,  putting 
down  the  magnifying  glass,  "but  there  are  one  or  two 
points  of  interest.  In  the  first  place,  the  paper  has 
been  cut  with  a  pair  of  scissors  from  the  fly-leaf  or 
title-page  of  an  old  book — an  expensive  book  of  its 
period,  of  the  late  fifties,  I  should  say — but  the  writing 
is  of  much  later  date.  These  facts  are  obvious,  and  do 
not  help  us  much  towards  a  solution  of  the  contents." 

"They  may  be  obvious  to  you,  but  they  are  not  so 
obvious  to  me,"  said  Marsland,  taking  the  paper  into 
his  hands  and  looking  at  it  thoughtfully.  "I  suppose 
you  judge  the  sheet  to  have  been  taken  from  an  old 
book,  because  it  is  yellow  with  age,  but  why  an  ex- 
pensive one  of  the  fifties?  And  how  do  you  know  it 
was  cut  out  with  a  pair  of  scissors?  Again,  how  do 
you  know  the  writing  is  of  a  much  later  date  than 
the  book  ?  The  ink  is  completely  faded." 

232 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      253 

"The  smooth  yellow,  and  glossy  surface  of  the  blank 
side  of  the  paper  indicates  conclusively  that  it  is  the 
title-page  or  fly-leaf  of  a  good  class  book  of  the  fifties. 
You  will  not  find  that  peculiar  yellow  colour — which 
is  not  the  effect  of  age — and  velvety  'feel'  in  books 
of  a  much  later  date.  The  unevenness  of  the  cut 
proves  that  the  sheet  was  taken  from  the  book 
with  a  pair  of  scissors;  haven't  you  ever  noticed 
that  nobody — except,  perhaps,  a  paperhanger — can  cut 
straight  with  a  pair  of  scissors?  If  it  had  been  cut 
with  a  knife  it  might  have  slanted  a  little,  but  it  would 
have  been  straighten  a  knife  cut  is  always  straighter 
than  the  wavering  cut  of  a  pair  of  scissors  directed  by 
the  eye.  The  faded  ink  proves  nothing:  inferior  ink 
such  as  is  sold  in  small  village  shops — from  where  the 
ink  at  Cliff  Farm  was  probably  procured — will  fade  in 
a  few  days;  it  is  only  the  best  ink  that  retains  its 
original  colour  for  any  length  of  time.  But  the  char- 
acter of  this  writing  indicates  to  me  that  it  was  written 
with  a  particular  kind  of  fine  nib,  which  was  not  in- 
vented till  after  1900." 

"Can  you  make  anything  of  the  figures  and  letters  on 
the  paper  ?"  asked  Marsland. 

"That  is  where  our  difficulties  commence.  We  have 
to  ascertain  the  connection  between  the  figures  and  the 
letters  and  the  circle ;  to  find  out  whether  the  former 
explain  the  latter  or  whether  the  circle  explains  the 
figures  and  the  letters.  If  the  figures  and  the  letters 
are  a  cryptogram  we  ought  to  be  able  to  find  the  solu- 
tion without  much  difficulty.  The  circle,  however,  is 
a  remarkable  device,  and  it  is  difficult  to  fathom  its 
meaning  without  something  to  guide  us.  I  thought  at 


254      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

first  it  might  have  been  capable  of  some  masonic  in- 
terpretation, but  now  I  doubt  it.  The  most  likely 
assumption  is  that  the  circle  and  the  lines  in  some  way 
indicate  the  hiding  place  of  the  money." 

"By  geometry?"  suggested  Marsland,  closely  ex- 
amining the  circle  on  the  paper. 

"I  think  not.  It  is  hardly  likely  that  the  old  farmer 
who  concealed  the  treasure  would  be  versed  in  the 
science  of  geometry.  He  may  have  drawn  the  circle 
to  indicate  a  certain  place  where  he  had  concealed  the 
money,  and  added  the  two  lines  to  indicate  the  radius 
or  point  where  it  was  to  be  found." 

"Local  gossip  declares  that  the  old  man  hid  his 
money  somewhere  in  the  landing-place  or  old  boat- 
house,  where  it  is  covered  at  high  tide,  and  that  his 
ghost  watches  over  it  at  low  tide  to  prevent  anybody 
stealing  it.  There  are  stories  of  treasure-seekers  hav- 
ing been  chased  along  the  sands  almost  to  Ashlingsea 
by  the  old  man's  ghost.  The  villagers  give  the  land- 
ing-place and  that  part  of  the  coast  road  a  wide  berth 
at  night  in  consequence." 

"I  do  not  think  the  old  man  hid  his  money  in  the 
boat-house  or  landing-place,"  said  Crewe.  "He  would 
have  known  that  the  action  of  weather  and  tide  would 
make  such  a  hiding-place  unsafe.  He  would  look  for 
a  safer  place.  He  has  almost  certainly  hidden  it  some- 
where about  the  farm,  and  the  circle  and  the  letters 
and  figures  will  tell  us  where,  when  we  discover  their 
meaning." 

Crewe  opened  his  notebook  and  commenced  to  make 
some  calculations  in  figures.  Marsland  meantime  oc- 
cupied himself  by  looking  at  the  circle  through  the 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      255 

magnifying  glass,  and  in  counting  the  figures  in  its 
circumference. 

"Perhaps  these  marks  in  the  circle  represent  paces," 
he  said,  struck  by  a  new  thought.  "Suppose,  for  in- 
stance, that  the  old  man  measured  off  a  piece  of 
ground  with  a  tape  measure  fastened  to  some  point 
which  would  represent  the  pivot  or  centre  of  his  circle. 
He  may  have  fastened  the  end  of  his  tape  measure 
to  the  well  pump  in  the  bricked  yard,  and  walked  round 
in  a  circle  holding  the  other  end  in  his  hand,  sticking  in 
pegs  as  he  walked.  The  top  figure  inside  the  circle — 
150 — may  mean  that  the  circle  is  150  yards  in  circum- 
ference. Within  the  radius  of  the  circle  he  buries  his 
money,  makes  a  drawing  of  the  circle  of  figures  and  the 
remaining  figures  to  indicate  its  whereabouts,  and  then 
removes  the  cord  and  pegs." 

"Ingenious,  but  unlikely,"  commented  Crewe.  "For 
one  thing,  such  a  plan  would  need  compass  points  to 
enable  the  searchers  to  take  their  bearings." 

"North  or  south  may  be  indicated  in  the  crypto- 
gram— when  we  discover  it,"  said  Marsland. 

"No,  no,"  said  Crewe,  shaking  his  head.  "Your  idea 
is  based  on  treasure-hunt  charts  in  novels.  My  ex- 
perience is  that  in  real  life  people  do  not  go  to  much 
trouble  in  hiding  money  or  valuables;  they  put  them 
away  in  some  chance  place  or  odd  receptacle  which 
happens  to  appeal  to  them,  and  where  I  think  they 
really  have  a  better  chance  of  remaining  undiscov- 
ered for  years  than  in  a  more  elaborately  contrived 
hiding-place.  In  the  Farndon  missing  will  case,  in- 
volving one  of  the  largest  estates  in  England,  the  will 
was  found  after  the  lapse  of  ten  years  concealed  in  the 
back  of  a  book,  where  the  deceased  Lord  Farndon  had 


256      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

placed  it  in  his  latter  days,  when  he  imagined  himself 
surrounded  by  thieves.  If  you  open  a  large  book 
about  the  middle  it  discloses  an  aperture  at  the  back 
sufficiently  large  to  conceal  a  paper,  and  when  the 
book  is  closed  there  will  be  no  sign.  Lord  Farndon 
concealed  his  will  in  one  of  the  estate  ledgers  which 
was  in  constant  use  for  some  time  after  his  death,  and 
yet  the  will  would  probably  have  never  been  discovered 
if  a  mouse  had  not  eaten  through  the  leather  back  long 
afterwards,  disclosing  the  hidden  parchment. 

"In  the  case  of  the  stolen  Trimarden  diamond,  the 
thief — a  servant  in  the  house — escaped  detection  by 
hiding  the  jewel  in  a  common  wooden  match-box  in  a 
candlestick  in  his  bedroom.  The  police  searched  his 
room,  but  never  thought  of  looking  into  the  match- 
box, and  he  got  away  with  the  diamond.  If  he  had  not 
bragged  of  the  trick  in  a  tavern  he  would  never  have 
been  caught.  As  regards  hidden  money,  people 
of  miserly  proclivities  who  are  frightened  to  put  their 
money  into  banks  prefer  a  hiding-place  under  cover 
to  one  in  the  open.  A  hiding-place  in  the  house  seems 
safer  to  them,  and,  moreover,  it  enables  them  to  look 
at  their  money  whenever  they  feel  inclined.  I  knew 
one  miser  who  used  to  hide  sovereigns  in  a  bar  of 
yellow  soap — thrusting  them  in  till  they  were 
hidden  from  view.  The  treasure  of  Cliff  Farm  is 
hidden  somewhere  in  the  farm,  and  the  circle  and  the 
cryptogram  are  the  keys.  The  explanation  is  hidden 
in  the  cryptogram,  and  I  have  no  doubt  that  there  is 
a  very  simple  explanation  of  the  circle — when  we 
discover  the  cryptogram." 

"I  remember  as  a  boy  at  school  that  we  used  to 
have  endless  fun  solving  cryptograms  which  appeared 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      257 

in  a  boys'  magazine,"  said  Marsland.  "Figures  were 
substituted  for  letters,  and  the  interpretation  of  the 
cryptogram  depended  largely  on  hitting  on  the  book 
from  which  the  figures  had  been  taken.  The  system 
was  to  put  down  the  number  of  the  page,  then  the 
number  of  the  line,  then  the  number  of  letters  in  the 
line  which  would  form  a  word.  The  key  book  hap- 
pened to  be  a  bound  volume  of  the  magazine  in 
question :  I  guessed  that,  and  won  a  prize.  Another 
form  of  cryptogram  for  competition  in  the  same  jour- 
nal was  a  transposition  of  the  letters  of  the  alphabet. 
But  that  was  easily  guessed,  from  the  repeated  oc- 
.currence  of  certain  letters  used  to  represent  the 
vowels." 

"I  remember  those  boyish  devices,"  said  Crewe, 
with  a  smile.  "But  true  cryptography  is  more  scien- 
tifically based  than  that.  Systems  of  secret  writing 
are  practically  unlimited  in  number  and  variety — and 
so  are  solutions.  Human  nature  hates  being  baffled, 
and  the  human  brain  has  performed  some  really  won- 
derful achievements — at  the  expense  of  much  effort 
and  patience — in  solving  systems  of  cryptography 
which  the  inventors  deemed  to  be  insoluble.  I  have  a 
weakness  for  cryptograms  myself,  and  at  one  time  col- 
lected quite  a  small  library  on  secret  writing,  from  the 
earlier  works  by  Bacon  and  Trithemius,  to  the  more 
modern  works  by  German  cryptographists,  who  have 
devised  some  remarkably  complicated  systems  which, 
no  doubt,  were  largely  used  by  the  Germans  before 
and  during  the  war  for  secret  service  work.  Tt  is 
astonishing  the  number  of  books  which  have  been 
written  on  the  subject  by  men  who  believed  they  had 
discovered  insoluble  systems  of  secret  writing,  and  by 

s 


258      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

men  who  have  set  out  to  prove  that  no  system  of  secret 
writing  is  insoluble.  Even  the  ancient  Hebraic 
prophets  used  cryptography  at  times  to  veil  their  at- 
tacks on  the  wicked  kings  of  Israel." 

"How  long  do  cryptograms — the  more  scientific,  I 
mean — usually  take  to  solve  ?" 

"Some  cryptograms  can  be  solved  in  an  hour ;  others 
may  take  months." 

"Do  you  think  that  this  one  will  prove  very  diffi- 
cult ?"  asked  Marsland,  pointing  to  the  Cliff  Farm  plan 
as  he  spoke. 

"I  cannot  say  until  I  have  studied  it  more  closely. 
The  solution  of  any  cryptogram  depends  first  on 
whether  you  have  any  knowledge  of  the  particular  sys- 
fcem  used,  and  then  on  finding  the  key.  It  is  quite 
possible,  and  frequently  happens,  that  one  is  able  t« 
reconstruct  the  particular  system  of  secret  writing 
from  which  a  cryptogram  has  been  constructed,  and 
then  fail  to  find  the  key.  A  really  scientific  crypto- 
gram never  leaves  the  key  to  guesswork,  but  gives  a 
carefully  hidden  clue  for  the  finder  to  work  upon; 
because  most  cryptograms  are  intended  to  be  solved, 
and  if  the  composer  of  the  message  left  its  discovery 
to  guesswork  he  would  be  defeating  his  own  ends. 
This  particular  cryptogram  looks  to  me  to  be  scien- 
tifically constructed;  I  cannot  say  yet  whether  it  is 
possible  to  reconstruct  it  and  solve  it." 

Crewe  resumed  his  scrutiny  of  the  plan,  making 
occasional  entries  in  his  notebook  as  he  did  so. 

Marsland  leaned  back  in  an  easy  chair,  lit  a  cigar, 
and  watched  him  in  silence.  The  detective's  remark 
convinced  him  that  there  was  a  wide  difference  between 
serious  cryptography  and  the  puzzle  diversions  of  his 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      259 

schoolboy  days,  and  he  felt  that  he  would  be  more  of 
a  hindrance  than  a  help  if  he  attempted  to  assist  Crewe 
in  his  task  of  unravelling  the  secret  of  the  hidden 
wealth  whose  hiding-place  had  been  indicated  by  its 
deceased  owner  in  the  symbols  and  hieroglyphics  on 
the  faded  sheet  of  paper.  He  reclined  comfortably  in 
his  chair,  watching  languidly  through  half -closed  eyes 
and  a  mist  of  cigar  smoke  the  detective's  intellectual 
face  bent  over  the  plan  in  intense  concentration.  After 
a  while  Crewe's  face  seemed  to  grow  shadowy  and 
indistinct,  and  finally  it  disappeared  behind  the  tobacco 
smoke.  Marsland  had  fallen  fast  asleep  in  his  chair. 

He  was  awakened  by  a  hand  on  his  shoulder,  and 
struggled  back  to  consciousness  to  find  Crewe  standing 
beside  him,  his  dark  eyes  smiling  down  at  him. 

"I  am  afraid  I  fell  into  a  doze,"  Marsland  murmured 
apologetically,  as  the  room  and  its  surroundings  came 
back  to  him. 

"You've  been  sleeping  soundly  for  nearly  two 
hours,"  said  Crewe,  with  a  smile. 

"Impossible!"  exclaimed  Marsland.  He  took  out 
his  watch  and  looked  at  it  in  astonishment.  "By  Jove, 
it's  actually  six  o'clock.  Why  didn't  you  wake  me  ?" 

"What  for?  I  became  so  absorbed  in  the  old  man's 
secret  that  I  had  no  idea  of  the  flight  of  time  till  I 
looked  at  my  watch  a  few  minutes  ago.  He  has 
evolved  a  very  neat  cryptogram — very  neat  and  work- 
manlike. It  was  quite  a  pleasure  to  try  and  decipher 
it." 

"Have  you  found  out  anything  about  it?" 

"I  believe  I  have  solved  it." 

"And  what  is  the  solution?"  asked  Marsland,  now 
thoroughly  awake.  "Where  is  the  money  hidden  ?" 


26o      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

"Now  you  are  going  too  fast,"  said  Crewe.  "I  said 
I  believed  I  have  solved  the  secret.  In  other  words, 
I  believe  I  have  hit  on  the  old  man's  cryptogram,  and 
the  key  which  solves  it,  but  I  have  deferred  applying 
the  key  till  I  awakened  you,  as  I  thought  you  would 
like  to  share  in  it" 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

CREWE  went  to  the  table  and  picked  up  the  plan. 

"My  first  impression  was  that  the  circle  of  figures 
represented  some  form  of  letters  of  the  alphabet  ar- 
ranged on  what  is  called  the  cardboard  or  trellis  cipher, 
in  which  a  message  is  concealed  by  altering  the  places 
of  the  letters  without  changing  their  powers.  Such 
messages  are  generally  written  after  the  Chinese  fash- 
ion— upwards  and  downwards — but  there  is  no  reason 
why  a  circle  should  not  be  used  to  conceal  the  message. 
In  this  case  I  did  not  expect  to  find  a  message  hidden  in 
the  circle,  but  rather,  the  key  to  the  solution  of  the 
letters  above  the  circle,  which,  I  was  convinced,  formed 
the  real  cryptogram. 

"The  recurring  T's  and  M's  in  the  top  line  seemed 
to  indicate  that  it  was  some  form  of  changed  letter 
cipher,  complicated  by  having  to  be  read  in  connection 
with  the  figures  in  the  circle,  which  represented  other 
letters  of  the  alphabet.  The  numbers,  representing  an 
ascending  series  from  6  to  89,  with  one  recurring 
6,  suggested  the  possibility  of  this  form  of  cryp- 
togram having  been  used.  The  numbers  in  the 
centre  suggested  a  sum,  which,  when  done,  would 
throw  some  light  on  the  arithmetical  puzzle  in  the 
centre  of  the  circle  by  division,  subtraction,  or  multi- 
plication. 

261 


262      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

"I  worked  for  a  solution  on  these  lines  for  some 
time,  but  ultimately  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the 
solution  did  not  lie  within  them.  I  am  not  an  arith- 
metician, but  my  calculations  told  me  enough  to  make 
me  realize  that  I  was  on  the  wrong  track. 

"I  next  attempted  to  ascertain  if  the  two  mysterious 
messages — the  lines  on  the  top  and  the  circle  of 
figures — were  two  separate  messages  read  indepen- 
dently of  one  another.  I  did  not  think  they  were,  but 
I  determined  to  put  it  to  the  test.  Obviously,  if  they 
were,  the  top  line  was  merely  a  changed  letter  cipher, 
.and  nothing  more.  These  are  usually  easy  to  decipher 
because  of  the  frequency  with  which  certain  letters 
recur.  In  English  the  letter  that  occurs  oftenest  is 
E,  then  T,  then  A,  O,  N,  I,  then  R,  S,  H ;  the  others 
in  lessening  frequency  down  to  J  and  Z,  which  are  the 
least  used  letters  in  the  English  alphabet.  The  recur- 
ring letters  in  our  cryptogram  are  T's  and  M's.  Using 
these  as  a  basis  to  give  me  the  key,  I  tried  all  likely 
combinations  on  the  changed  letter  basis,  but  without 
success. 

"I  came  back  to  my  original  idea  that  the  figures 
in  the  circle  were  the  solvent  of  the  line  of  letters 
above,  and  concentrated  my  efforts  in  attempting  to 
discover  their  meaning.  I  finally  came  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  the  figures  represented  the  pages  or  lines  of 
some  book." 

"Like  the  cryptograms  I  used  to  solve  when  I  was 
at  school,"  suggested  Marsland,  with  a  smile. 

"Rather  more  difficult  than  that.  In  that  form  of 
cryptogram  rows  of  figures  are  turned  into  words  once 
you  hit  on  the  right  book.  This  cryptogram  is  much 
more  ingenious,  for  it  consists  of  three  parts — a  line 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      263. 

of  meaningless  letters  and  a  circle  of  equally  meaning- 
less figures,  with  other  figures  within  it,  and  some  plain 
English  verses  of  Scripture,  the  whole  probably  inter- 
dependent. If  the  circle  of  figures  represented  some 
book  necessary  to  the  solution  of  the  whole  crypto- 
gram, the  first  thing  to  find  out  was  the  book  from 
which  the  figures  had  been  taken.  I  had  not  much 
difficulty  in  arriving  at  the  conclusion  that  this  book 
was  a  large  brass-bound  family  Bible  I  saw  at  Cliff 
Farm." 

"I  suppose  the  texts  on  the  bottom  of  the  sheet  sug- 
gested that  idea  to  you  ?"  said  Marsland. 

Crewe  shook  his  head. 

"I've  learnt  to  mistrust  guesswork,"  he  said.  "It 
would  be  a  jump  at  random  to  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  the  cryptogram  had  been  drawn  on  the  fly-leaf  of 
a  Bible  because  it  contained  some  Scripture  texts. 
There  is  no  connection  between  the  facts.  In  fact,  it 
seemed  unlikely  to  me  at  first  that  a  religious  man  like 
the  old  farmer  would  have  mutilated  his  family  Bible 
for  such  a  purpose.  I  was  inclined  to  the  view  that 
he  had  taken  a  fly-leaf  from  one  of  his  Leisure  Hour 
bound  volumes,  which  at  the  farm  range  from  1860 
to  the  early  seventies — a  period  of  years  when  this 
kind  of  glossy  thick  paper  was  much  used  for  fly-leaves 
by  English  printers.  But  while  I  was  examining  the 
sheet  through  the  magnifying  glass  I  detected  this 
mark  on  the  edge,  which  proved  conclusively  to  me 
that  the  cryptogram  had  been  drawn  on  the  fly-leaf  of 
the  family  Bible.  Have  a  look  at  it  through  the  glass 
— you  cannot  detect  it  with  the  naked  eye." 

Crewe  held  the  sheet  edgeways  as  he  spoke,  and 
pointed  to  one  of  the  outer  corners.  Marsland  gazed 


264      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

intently  through  the  glass,  and  was  able  to  detect  a 
minute  glittering  spot  not  much  larger  than  a  pin's 
point. 

"I  see  it,"  he  said,  relinquishing  the  glass.  "But  I 
do  not  understand  what  it  means." 

"It  is  Dutch  metal  or  gold-leaf.  The  book  from 
which  this  sheet  was  cut  was  gilt-edged.  That  dis- 
poses of  the  volumes  of  Leisure  Hour  and  other  bound 
periodicals,  none  of  which  is  gilt-edged.  When  I 
was  looking  at  the  books  at  the  farm  I  noticed  only 
two  with  gilt-edged  leaves.  One  was  the  big  family 
Bible,  and  the  other  was  a  large,  old  fashioned 
Language  of  Flowers.  But  this  sheet  could  not  have 
been  cut  from  The  Language  of  Flowers." 

"Why  not?" 

"Because  it  has  two  rounded  corners.  As  a  rule, 
only  sacred  books  and  poetry  are  bound  with  rounded 
corners.  In  any  case,  I  remember  that  The  Language 
of  Flowers  at  the  farm  is  square-edged.  Therefore 
the  sheet  on  which  the  cryptogram  has  been  drawn  was 
cut  from  the  Bible. 

"The  next  question  that  faced  me  was  how  the  num- 
bers had  been  used :  they  did  not  represent  the  numbers 
of  the  pages,  I  was  sure  of  that.  The  Bible  is  a  book 
in  which  figures  are  used  freely  in  the  arrangement 
of  the  contents.  The  pages  are  numbered,  the  chap- 
ters are  divided  into  verses  which  are  numbered,  and 
there  is  a  numbered  table  of  contents  at  the  beginning 
of  each  chapter.  Obviously,  the  Bible  is  an  excellent 
book  from  which  to  devise  a  cryptogram  of  numbers 
owing  to  the  multiplicity  of  figures  used  in  it  and  the 
variety  of  ways  in  which  they  are  arranged.  I  found 
both  a  Bible  and  Prayer  Book  in  the  bookshelves,  here, 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      265 

and  set  to  work  to  study  the  numerical  arrangement 
of  the  chapters,  the  divisions  of  the  verses,  and  the 
arrangement  of  figures  at  the  head  of  the  chapters." 

"It  was  while  I  was  thus  engaged  that  I  remem- 
bered that  at  the  beginning  of  the  authorised  version  of 
the  Bible  is  inserted  a  table  of  the  books  of  the  Old  and 
New  Testaments,  the  pages  on  which  they  begin,  and 
the  number  of  chapters  in  each.  Here  was 
the  possibility  of  a  starting-point,  sufficiently  un- 
usual to  make  a  good  concealment,  yet  not  too  re- 
mote. I  turned  to  the  table,  and,  on  running  my 
eye  down  it,  I  saw  that  the  Psalms,  and  the  Psalms 
alone,  contain  150  chapters.  Now,  the  first  line 
of  central  figures  in  the  cryptogram  is  150.  I  was 
really  fortunate  in  starting  off  with  this  discovery,  be- 
cause otherwise  I  might  have  been  led  off  the  track  by 
the  doubling  and  trebling  of  the  3  in  the  second  line  of 
central  figures,  and  have  wasted  time  trying  to  fathom 
some  mystic  interpretation  of  the  9 — a  numeral  which 
has  always  had  a  special  significance  for  humanity :  the 
Nine  Muses,  the  Nine  Worthies,  'dressed  up  to  the 
nines,'  and  so  on.  But  with  150  as  the  indication  that 
the  cryptogram  had  been  composed  from  the  Book  of 
Psalms,  it  was  obvious  that  the  next  line  of  numerals 
in  the  centre  directed  attention  to  some  particular  por- 
tion of  them.  As  there  are  not  396  verses  in  any  chap- 
ter of  the  Psalms " 

"Just  what  I  was  going  to  point  out,"  broke  in  Mars- 
land. 

"Quite  so.  But  it  was  possible  that  396  meant  Psalm 
39,  6.  Therefore  I  turned  to  the  thirty-ninth  Psalm. 
Verse  six  of  that  Psalm  reads : 


266  ~  THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

"  'Surely  every  man  walketh  in  a  vain  shew :  surely 
they  are  disquieted  in  vain :  he  heapeth  up  riches,  and 
knoweth  not  who  shall  gather.'  " 

"Appropriate  enough,"  commented  Marsland. 

"There  remained  the  final  6,  under  the  396,  to  be 
explained,  before  I  was  able  to  start  on  the  table  which 
had  been  used  to  build  up  the  cryptogram.  The  fact 
that  the  figures  in  the  outside  circle  start  at  6  indicated 
that  there  was  some  connection  between  it  and  the 
inner  6.  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  inner  6 
meant  one  of  two  things :  either  the  designer  preferred 
to  start  from  the  number  6  because  he  thought  the 
figure  i  was  too  clear  an  indication  of  the  commence- 
ment of  his  cryptogram,  or  else  he  made  his  start  from 
the  sixth  letter  of  the  text.  I  thought  the  former  the 
likelier  solution,  but  I  tried  them  both,  to  make  sure. 
The  first  five  figures  on  the  latter  solution  gave  me  a 
recurring  Y,  which  indicated  that  I  was  on  the  wrong 
track  because  it  was  essential  there  should  be  no  re- 
curring letters.  There  are  no  recurring  letters  in  the 
other  key,  as  the  table  shows : 


6 

7  8 

9 

10 

II 

12 

13  14  15  16 

17 

18 

19 

s 

u  r 

e 

1 

y 

e 

v   e   r 

y 

m 

a 

n 

I 

2  3 

4 

5 

6 

7 

8   9  10  II 

12 

13 

14 

20 

21 

22 

23  24  25  26 

27  28 

29 

30  31 

32 

33 

W 

a 

1 

k 

e   t 

h 

i   n 

a 

V 

a 

i 

n 

IS 

16 

17 

18 

19  2O  21 

22  23 

24 

25 

26 

27 

28 

34 

35 

36 

37 

38 

39  40 

41  42 

43 

44 

45 

46 

47 

s 

h 

e 

w  : 

S 

u   r 

e   1 

y 

t 

h 

e 

y 

29 

30 

3i 

32 

33 

34  35 

36  37 

38 

39 

40 

4i 

42 

48 

49 

50 

51 

5.2 

53  54  55  56  57 

58 

59 

60 

61 

62 

a 

r 

e 

d 

i 

s   q 

u   i   e 

t 

e 

d 

i 

n 

43 

44 

45 

46 

47 

48  49  50  51  52 

53 

54 

55 

56 

57 

THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      267 

63    64    65    66  67    68          69    70    71     72     73     74    75 

vain:  he  heapeth 

58     59    60    61  62     63          64    65     66    67     68     69     70 

76      77  78      79      80      81      82      83  84      85      86 

up  riches  and 

71      72  73      74      75      76      77      7»  79      80      81 

87    88    89    90    91     92    93  94    95    96  97    98    99 

knoweth  not  who 

82     83    84    85    86    87    88  89    90    91  92     93    94 

100     101     102     103     104  105     106     107     108     109     no 

shall  gather 

95      96      97      98      99  loo    101     102     103     104    105 

"The  circle  of  figures  taken  in  their  ascending  or- 
der and  starting  with  the  second  six,  run  thus: 
6,  8,  9,  10,   11,  13,  17,   19,  20,  21,  23,  25,  26,  27, 

39,  5i.  54,  72>  8o»  89. 

Now,  assuming  that  my  interpretation  of  the  solitary 
six  in  the  circle  is  correct — that  the  old  man  started 
from  six  because  he  thought  the  use  of  the  figure  cne 
gave  away  too  much — we  will  substitute  for  these  fig- 
ures the  letters  which  appear  underneath  them  in  the 
table.  The  substitution  gives  us  the  following  row  of 
letters : 

SRELYVMNWAKTHIUDQPCOS 
"This  is  the  line  of  letters  from  which  we  will  en- 
deavour to  reconstruct  the  old  man's  cryptogram.  We 
can,  I  think,  go  forward  with  the  assurance  that  they 
are  the  actual  letters  represented  by  the  cryptogram, 
for  several  reasons.  There  are  no  recurring  letters, 
and  they  represent  every  letter  in  the  text  in  consecu- 
tive order,  with  three  exceptions  which  are  capable  of 
a  simple  explanation.  The  U  has  been  taken 
from  the  second  'surely*  instead  of  the  first,  to  mis- 
lead the  solver.  Otherwise  you  would  have  surely 


268      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

for  the  first  five  numbers,  which  would  be  too  clear 
an  indication.  The  same  reason  exists  for  making  A 
the  tenth  letter  instead  of  the  eighth;  which  would 
reveal  the  word  'man.'  The  final  letter — the  'G'  in 
'gather' — has  been  excluded,  for  a  reason  which  I  will 
presently  explain." 

"What  about  the  second  S — the  final  letter  ?  Do  you 
not  call  that  a  recurring  letter  ?"  asked  Marsland,  who 
was  closely  examining  the  table  the  detective  had  pre- 
pared. 

"Not  in  the  cryptographic  sense.  It  is  the  first  letter 
of  the  text  repeated  after  the  line  had  been  completed 
without  recurring  letters.  There  is  a  special  reason  for 
its  use.  The  old  man  has  worked  on  what  is  called  the 
keyword  cipher,  which  is  the  most  difficult  of  all  ciphers 
to  discover.  This  system  consists  of  various  arrange- 
ments, more  or  less  elaborate,  of  tables  of  letters,  set 
down  in  the  form  of  the  multiplication  table,  and  from 
the  table  agreed  upon  messages  are  constructed  whose 
solution  depends  on  the  use  of  some  preconcerted  key- 
word. The  most  scientific  adaptation  of  this  principle 
was  constructed  by  Admiral  Sir  Francis  Beaufort.  In 
his  system  the  letters  of  the  alphabet  are  set  down  one 
under  another  from  A  to  Z,  then  A  is  added  to  the  line. 
The  next  line  starts  with  B  and  runs  to  another  B  at 
the  bottom.  You  continue  till  you  have  the  whole 
alphabet  set  down  in  this  fashion.  From  this  table 
and  an  agreed  keyword,  which  may  consist  of  a  proper 
name  or  a  sentence  of  several  words,  you  construct 
a  cipher  message." 

"How?"  asked  Marsland,  in  a  tone  of  keen  interest. 

"That  is  what  I  now  propose  to  demonstrate  to  you, 
if,  as  I  think,  the  old  man  constructed  his  cryptogram 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      269 

in  accordance  with  this  principle.  I  have  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  he  modified  and  adapted  this  system 
to  his  own  ends,  using  the  letters  of  the  text  from  the 
Bible  to  conceal  it  better,  and  then  made  it  more  diffi- 
cult still  by  turning  the  letters  into  figures  after  the 
manner  I  have  described.  He  has  also  made  a  slight 
but  not  uncommon  variation  from  the  Beaufort  prin- 
ciple by  striking  out  the  'G'  in  'gather,'  which  would 
follow  the  'O'  if  every  letter  in  the  text  was  used  once, 
and  substituting  the  final  S,  instead  of  placing  the  'S' 
after  'G.'  But  the  clue  that  suggested  to  my  mind 
that  he  had  worked  on  this  principle  are  the 
two  figures  6  coming  together  at  the  top  of  the 
circle.  In  the  substituted  letters  they  form  two  S's. 
Now,  why  does  he  have  two  S's  when  he  carefully 
avoids  recurring  letters  in  the  rest  of  the  table  ?  And 
why  did  he  insert  the  first  S  again,  as  represented  by 
the  figure  6,  instead  of  taking  the  next  S  in  this  table  ? 
"In  pondering  over  these  points  I  discovered,  as  I 
believe,  the  system  of  cryptogram  he  used  to  construct 
his  secret.  He  wanted  to  make  the  cryptogram  diffi- 
cult of  solution,  but  at  the  same  time  he  wanted  to  give 
some  indication  of  the  form  of  cryptogram  he  was 
using  when  his  heirs  came  to  search  for  the  money. 
The  recurring  S  indicates  that  he  was  working  on  a 
modification  of  the  system  I  have  explained,  in  which 
you  add  the  first  letter  of  your  first  column  to  the  bot- 
tom, and  continue  on  that  system  throughout  the  table. 
It  is  not  much  of  a  hint,  because  we  have  got  to  find 
the  keyword  before  we  can  use  the  table,  but  by  its 
help  we  will  start  with  the  assumption  that  the  old 
man  worked  on  the  following  table: 


270      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

S  RELYVMNWAKTHI  UDQ  PC  OS 
RELYVMNWAKTHI  UDQP  COSR 
ELYVMNWAKTHI  UDQPCOSRE 
LYVMNWAKTHI  UDQPCO  SREL 
YVMNWAKTHI UDQPCOSRELY 
VMNWAKTHI  UDQPCOSRELYV 
MNWAKTHI UDQPCOSRELYVM 
NWAKTHI UDQPCOSRELYVMN 
WAKTHI UDQPCOSRELYVMNW 
AKTHI  UDQPCOSRELYVMNWA 
KTHI  UDQPCOSRELYVMNWAK 
THI  UDQPCOSRELYVMNWAKT 
HI  UDQPCOSRELYVMNWAKTH 
I  UDQPCOS  RELYVMNWAKTHI 
UDQPCOS  RELYVMNWAKTHI  U 
DQPCOS  RELYVMNWAKTHI  UD 
QPCOS  RELYVMNWAKTHI  UDQ 
PCOS  RELYVMNWAKTHI  UDQP 
COS  RELYVMNWAKTHI  UDQPC 
OS  RELYVMNWAKTHI  UDQPCO 
S  RELYVMNWAKTHIU  DQPCOS 

"It  is  from  this  table,  unless  I  am  very  much  mis- 
taken, that  he  constructed  the  cipher  at  the  top  of  the 
sheet,"  said  Crewe. 

Marsland  examined  the  curious  table  of  letters, 
with  close  scrutiny,  from  various  points  of  view, 
finally  reversing  it  and  examining  it  upside-down.  He 
returned  it  to  Crewe  with  a  disappointed  shake  of  his 
head. 

"I  can  make  nothing  of  it,"  he  said. 

"It  is  necessary  for  us  to  discover  the  keyword 
he  worked  on  before  we  can  make  use  of  it,"  said 
Crewe.  "Once  we  get  the  keyword,  we  will  have  no 
trouble  in  deciphering  the  mysterious  message.  The 
keyword  is  the  real  difficulty  in  ciphers  of  this  kind. 
It  is  like  the  keyword  of  a  combination  lock.  Without 
it,  you  cannot  unlock  the  cipher.  It  is  absolutely  insol- 
uble. Suppose,  for  example,  he  had  picked  a  word  at 
random  out  of  the  dictionary,  and  died  without  divulg- 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      271 

ing  it  to  anybody,  we  should  have  to  go  through  the 
dictionary  word  for  word,  working  the  table  on  each 
word,  till  we  came  to  the  right  one." 

"But  that  would  take  years,"  exclaimed  Marsland 
blankly. 

"Unless  we  hit  on  it  by  a  lucky  accident.  That  is 
why  the  keyword  cipher  is  practically  insoluble  with- 
out knowledge  of  the  keyword.  It  is  not  even  neces- 
sary to  have  a  word.  A  prearranged  code  of  letters 
will  do,  known  only  to  the  composer  of  the  crypto- 
gram. If  he  wanted  anybody  else  to  decipher  his 
cryptogram,  he  would  have  to  divulge  to  him  not  only 
the  form  of  table  he  worked  on  but  the  code  of  letters 
forming  the  keyword." 

"Well,  I  do  not  see  we  are  much  further  forward," 
said  Marsland  despondently.  "Of  course,  it's  very 
clever  of  you  to  have  found  out  what  you  have,  but 
we  are  helpless  without  the  keyword.  The  old  man 
is  not  likely  to  have  divulged  it  to  anybody." 

"You  are  wrong,"  said  Crewe.  "He  has  divulged 
it" 

"To  whom?" 

"To  this  paper.  As  I  said  before,  he  did  not  want 
his  cryptogram  to  be  insoluble;  he  wanted  his  heirs 
to  have  his  money,  but  he  did  not  want  it  found  very 
easily.  You  have  forgotten  the  texts  at  the  bottom  of 
the  paper.  They  have  not  been  placed  there  for  noth- 
ing. The  keyboard  is  hidden  in  them." 

"I  forgot  all  about  the  texts — I  was  so  interested 
in  your  reconstruction  of  the  cryptogram,"  said  Mars- 
land.  "As  you  say,  he  didn't  put  the  texts  there  for 
nothing,  so  it  seems  likely  that  he  has  hidden  the  key- 
word in  them.  But  even  now  we  may  have  soroe 


272      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

difficulty  in  finding  it.  Do  you  propose  to  take  the 
texts  word  for  word,  testing  each  with  the  table,  till 
you  find  the  right  one  ?" 

"That  would  take  a  long  while,"  said  Crewe.  "I 
hope  to  simplify  the  process  considerably.  In  fact,  I 
think  I  have  already  discovered  the  keyword." 

"You  have!"  exclaimed  Marsland,  in  astonishment. 
"How  have  you  managed  that?" 

"By  deduction  from  the  facts  in  front  of  us — 
or  perhaps  I  should  say  by  reflecting  on  the  hints 
placed  in  the  texts.  Isn't  there  something  about  those 
texts  that  strikes  you  as  peculiar?" 

Marsland  examined  them  attentively  for  some  time, 
and  shook  his  head. 

"I'm  afraid  I'm  not  sufficiently  well  up  in  the  Scrip- 
tures to  notice  anything  peculiar  about  them.  I  should 
say  they  were  from  the  Old  Testament,  but  I  couldn't 
tell  you  what  part  of  it." 

"The  texts  are  from  the  Old  Testament,  from  Jere- 
miah XXV  and  Isaiah  VII.  They  are  remarkable  for 
the  fact  that  they  represent  two  passages — the  only 
two  instances  in  the  whole  Bible — where  the  writers 
used  cryptograms  to  hide  their  actual  meaning.  In  the 
first  instance  the  prophet,  Jeremiah,  living  in  dangerous 
times,  veils  his  attack  on  the  King  of  Babylon  by  writ- 
ing Sheshak  for  Babel — Babylon;  that  is,  instead  of 
using  B  B  L,  the  second  and  twelfth  letters  of  the 
Hebrew  alphabet,  from  the  beginning,  he  wrote  Sh 
Sh  K  from  the  end — a  simple  form  of  cryptogram 
which  is  frequently  used,  even  now.  In  the  second  in- 
stance the  prophet  Isaiah,  working  on  a  very  similar 
form  of  cryptogram,  writes  'Tabeal'  for  'Remaliah.' 

"Now,  we  are  faced  by  two  facts  concerning  the 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      273 

presence  of  these  two  texts  on  the  paper  containing  the 
cryptogram.  In  the  first  place,  the  cryptogram  was 
complete  without  the  texts:  for  what  purpose,  then, 
could  they  have  been  at  the  bottom  of  the  sheet  except 
to  give  a  clue  to  the  discovery  of  that  keyword  with- 
out which  ho  recovery  of  the  hidden  treasure  was  pos- 
sible, unless  it  was  found  by  a  lucky  chance?  In  the 
second  place,  the  selection  by  the  old  man  of  the  only 
two  cryptographic  texts  in  the  Bible  was  certainly  not 
chance,  but  part  of  a  deliberate  harmonious  design  to 
guide  the  intelligent  searcher  to  the  right  keyword. 
He  was  evidently  versed  in  cryptography,  constructed 
this  one  as  carefully  as  a  mechanic  putting  together 
a  piece  of  mechanism,  fitting  all  the  parts  carefully 
into  one  another.  The  figures  in  the  centre  of  the 
circle  give  the  key  to  the  outside  figures:  the  outside 
figures  are  the  key  to  the  cryptographic  table  of  let- 
ters from  which  the  cryptogram  is  to  be  solved ;  there 
remains  the  key  to  be  found.  It  is  not  likely  that  the 
composer  of  such  an  ingenious  cryptogram  would  leave 
the  keyword  to  guesswork. 

"The  whole  thing  is  a  Bible  cryptogram  from  first 
to  last:  figures,  letters,  words,  and  texts.  It  is  even 
drawn  on  a  sheet  cut  from  the  Bible.  Why  ?  Such  an 
act  might  be  deemed  irreverent  in  a  deeply  religious 
man  like  the  old  man  was,  but  when  we  piece  the 
thing  together  we  find  that  he  was  actuated  by  a  re- 
ligious spirit  throughout.  Not  the  least  skilful  part  of 
his  cryptogram  is  his  concealment  of  the  keyword  in 
the  text  at  the  bottom.  The  text  would  convey  noth- 
ing to  most  people,  for  very  few  people  know  any- 
thing about  cryptograms,  still  fewer  people  would  know 


274      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

that  these  texts  contain  the  only  two  cryptograms  in 
the  Bible.  Therefore,  in  accordance  with  his  harmo- 
nious design,  it  seems  to  me  that  the  keyword  should 
be  found  in  the  five  alternatives  of  the  cryptic  texts : 
Babel,  Babylon,  Sheshak,  Remaliah,  or  Tabeal. 

"Babel  and  Babylon  may  be  discarded  because 
there  is  no  letter  B  in  the  cryptographic  table,  and 
it  is  essential  that  the  keyword  shall  contain  no  let- 
ter which  doesn't  also  appear  in  the  table.  'Sheshak' 
may  also  be  discarded  for  the  present  as  unlikely 
because  of  the  awkwardness  of  the  recurring  'Sh' 
in  a  keyword.  There  remain  Tabeal  and  Remaliah. 
The  tendency  of  the  composer  would  be  to  use  the 
longer  word,  because  a  long  keyword  is  the  better  for 
the  purpose.  I  think,  therefore,  we  should  first  try 
whether  Remaliah  is  the  keyword  we  are  in  search 
of." 

"By  Jove,  Crewe,  that  is  cleverly  reasoned  out!" 
exclaimed  Marsland,  in  some  excitement.  "Let's  put 
it  to  the  test.  How  do  we  apply  this  keyword  to  the 
table?" 

"Easily  enough.  On  this  sheet  of  paper  we  will 
write  down  the  cryptogram;  and  the  keyword  under- 
neath it,  letter  for  letter  thus : 

TYNMVRTTHS    M 
REMALI     AHREM 

"Now,  the  first  word  of  the  cryptogram  is  T.  Look 
in  the  first  column  of  the  table  for  it,  and  then  run 
your  eye  across  the  table  for  the  first  letter  of  the 
keyword.  When  you  have  found  it,  look  at  the  top 
of  the  column  and  tell  me  the  letter." 

"K,"  said  Marsland. 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      275 

"Very  well,  then.  We  put  down  'K'  as  the  first 
word  of  the  solution  and  proceed  in  like  manner 
through  the  whole  of  the  cipher.  The  second  letter 
is  Y — find  it  in  the  table,  then  look  across  for  the 
second  letter  of  the  key  E,  and  then  to  the  top  of  the 
column.  What  letter  have  you?" 

"C,"  said  Marsland. 

"KC,  then,  are  the  first  two  letters  of  our  solution, 
and  we  go  on  to  the  third,  always  repeating  the 
same  process.  N  in  the  first  column,  M  across,  and 
the  top  gives  you?" 

"O,"  said  Marsland. 

"The  next  letter  is  M  in  the  cryptogram  and  A 
in  the  keyword.  What  does  the  top  of  the  ccht/nn 
give  you?" 

"L,"  replied  Marsland.  "But  I  say,  Crewe,  do  you 
think  we  are  on  the  right  track?  K,  C,  O,  L,  is  a 
queer  start  for  a  word  isn't  it?  I  know  of  no  word 
commencing  like  that." 

"I  may  be  mistaken,  but  I  do  not  think  so,"  re- 
plied Crewe  firmly.  "Let  us  keep  on  till  we've  finished 
it,  at  all  events." 

They  resumed  their  task,  and  ultimately  brought 
out  the  letters :  K,  C,  O,  L,  C,  H,  C,  R,  A,  E,  S.  Mars- 
land  gazed  at  the  result  in  dismay. 

"By  Jove,  we're  on  the  wrong  track,"  he  said  rue- 
fully. "It  is  the  wrong  word,  Crewe.  These  letters 
mean  nothing;  you'll  have  to  try  again." 

But  Crewe  did  not  reply.  He  was  examining  the 
result  of  his  night's  labours  closely.  Suddenly  he 
put  down  the  paper  with  an  unusual  light  in  his  eye. 

"No,"  he  said.  "I  am  right,  the  old  man  was 
thorough  to  the  last  detail.  He  has  given  another 


276      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

clue  to  his  heirs  in  the  circle  and  the  two  lines.  They 
represent  a  clock  face.  But  the  figures  round  them 
run  the  reverse  way  to  clock  figures.  The  crypto- 
gram reads  backwards.  Hold  it  up  to  that  mirror, 
and  see." 

Marsland  did  so,  and  laid  down  the  paper  with  a 
look  of  bewilderment. 

"Search  clock !  The  old  grandfather  dock  at  Cliff 
Fannl"  he  said. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

As  the  car  swept  round  the  deserted  sea- front  and 
through  the  scattered  outskirts  of  the  town,  Crewe 
gradually  increased  the  going,  till  by  the  time  Staveley 
was  left  behind,  and  the  Cliff  road  stretched  in  front 
of  them,  his  powerful  car  was  driving  along  at  top 
speed.  The  night  was  not  dark  for  the  time  of  year ; 
the  windings  of  the  road  were  visible  some  distance 
ahead :  from  the  cliffs  the  rollers  of  the  incoming  tide 
could  be  seen  breaking  into  white  froth  on  the  rocks 
below. 

"It  has  occurred  to  me  that,  for  a  man  who  was 
afraid  of  a  German  invasion,  old  Lumsden  selected  a 
very  bad  hiding-place  for  his  money,"  said  Marsland. 
"He  could  not  have  known  of  the  reputation  the  Ger- 
man soldiers  made  for  themselves  in  stealing  French 
clocks  in  the  war  of  1870." 

"Perhaps  not,"  replied  Crewe.  "But  I  do  not  think 
he  intended  to  leave  the  money  in  the  clock  when 
the  Germans  came.  If  he  fled  from  the  farm  he  would 
have  taken  it  with  him.  His  object  in  hiding  it  in  the 
clock  was  to  have  it  constantly  under  his  eye." 

The  car  mounted  the  hill  to  the  cutting  through  the 
cliff  road  near  their  destination,  and  as  the  road  dipped 
downwards  Crewe  slackened  the  pace.  Both  of  them 
were  looking  across  towards  the  farm  on  the  left.  As 
it  came  into  view  Crewe  exclaimed  to  his  companion: 

"Did  you  see  that?" 

277 


278      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

"A  light!"  said  Marsland  excitedly. 

"It  is  gone  now;  it  was  probably  a  match.  There 
must  be  some  one  there.  I  wonder  who  it  could  be?" 

"Perhaps  it  is  Gillett.    We  will  soon  see." 

"No,  we  will  drive  past.  It  may  be  some  one  who 
wants  to  escape  being  seen.  We  will  run  the  car  off 
the  road  a  little  way  down  past  the  farm,  then  ex- 
tinguish the  lights  and  make  our  way  back." 

He  increased  the  pace  of  the  car  so  that  if  there 
was  any  one  at  the  farm  it  would  appear  that  the  car 
was  going  on  to  Ashlingsea.  They  both  kept  their  eyes 
on  the  house  as  the  car  sped  past,  but  there  was  no 
repetition  of  the  flash  of  light  they  had  seen.  Less 
than  half  a  mile  away  Crewe  shut  off  the  engine,  and 
carefully  ran  the  car  off  the  road  on  to  a  grassy  path. 
He  extinguished  the  lights  and  jumped  out  of 
the  car.  He  took  an  electric  torch  from  his  overcoat 
pocket  and  after  turning  it  on  to  see  if  it  was  in  order 
he  set  off  in  the  direction  of  the  farm. 

"We  will  not  keep  to  the  road,  as  there  may  be 
some  one  on  the  watch,"  he  said.  "Follow  me,  I 
know  my  way  across  the  fields." 

He  clambered  over  the  gate  of  a  field  and  set  off  at 
a  run,  with  Marsland  following  him  closely.  He  led 
the  way  over  ditches  and  across  hedges  and  fences 
until  they  reached  the  meadow  at  the  side  of  the  farm. 
Before  climbing  the  low,  brick  wall  Crewe  waited  for 
Marsland. 

"You  watch  the  front  of  the  house  while  I  go  to 
the  back.  If  you  see  any  one  challenge  him  in  a  loud 
voice  so  that  I  can  hear  you,  and  I'll  come  to  your 
assistance.  If  I  want  you  I'll  call  out." 

They  climbed  the  wall  and  dropped  noiselessly  on 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      279 

to  the  grass.  Crewe  waited  until  Marsland  had  taken 
up  his  station  behind  a  plum-tree  in  the  garden,  and 
then  crept  towards  the  kitchen  door.  He  stood  out- 
side the  door  listening  intently  for  a  few  minutes,  but 
as  he  heard  no  sound  he  selected  the  right  key  from 
the  bunch  he  had  borrowed  from  Gillett,  and  turned 
the  lock.  He  waited  to  see  if  the  sound  of  the  turn- 
ing lock  had  alarmed  any  one  inside  the  house.  Slowly 
he  turned  the  handle,  opened  the  door  and  stepped 
noiselessly  into  the  kitchen. 

A  few  minutes  later  Marsland  heard  him  approach- 
ing him  from  the  back  of  the  house. 

"Come  quickly,"  he  said.  "Some  one  has  been  be- 
fore us  and  found  the  money,  but  he  is  coming  back 
again." 

Marsland  silently  followed  Crewe  along  the  side  of 
the  house  to  the  kitchen,  and  into  the  room  where  the 
great  grandfather  clock  stood.  Crewe  flashed  the 
torch  on  it,  and  Marsland  started  back  with  a  cry  of 
astonishment.  The  wooden  case  had  been  smashed  be- 
yond repair.  It  had  been  hacked  and  splintered  with 
a  heavy  weapon,  which  had  not  only  battered  in  the 
front  of  the  case,  but  smashed  the  back  as  well.  Pieces 
of  the  wood  had  been  pulled  off  and  flung  about  the 
room.  About  the  bottom  of  the  broken  case  several 
sovereigns  were  lying. 

"The  treasure !"  he  cried.  "It  was  here  then.  Has 
he  got  away  with  it  ?" 

"Most  of  it,  but  not  all  of  it,"  said  Crewe.  "See 
here!"  He  knelt  down  by  the  case,  plunged  in  his 
hand,  and  drew  forth  a  canvas  bag  which  clinked  as 
he  held  it  up.  "This  is  the  sort  of  bag  that  banks 
use  for  holding  sovereigns — the  banks  put  a  thousand 


280      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

sovereigns  into  each  bag  and  seal  it  up  so  as  to  render 
it  unnecessary  to  count  the  coins  every  time  the  bags 
are  handled.  There  are  four  of  these  bags  still  here." 

"But  where  are  they  hidden?"  asked  Marsland,  in 
amazement.  "Where  did  you  find  this  one  ?  Wasn't  it 
lying  on  the  floor  when  you  came  in?" 

"The  old  man  devised  a  skilful  hiding-place,"  said 
Crewe.  "He  fitted  the  case  with  a  false  back,  and 
stowed  his  treasure  in  between.  Look  here !" 

He  flashed  the  light  around  the  interior  of  the  case, 
and  Marsland,  looking  closely,  saw  that  the  back  of  it, 
which  had  been  smashed,  was  a  false  one,  skilfully  let 
in  about  three  inches  in  front  of  the  real  back.  In  the 
space  between  the  two  backs  the  eccentric  old  owner  of 
Cliff  Farm  had  concealed  his  treasure  as  he  had 
obtained  it  from  the  bank. 

"It's  an  ingenious  hiding-place,"  said  Crewe.  "He 
laid  the  clock  on  its  face,  took  off  the  back,  fitted  his 
false  slide  into  a  groove,  stacked  in  his  money-bags, 
replaced  the  proper  back,  and  then  restored  the  clock 
to  its  original  position.  You  eee,  he  was  careful  to 
make  the  space  between  the  false  and  the  real  backs 
so  narrow  that  there  was  very  little  possibility  of  the 
hiding-place  being  discovered  by  chance  or  suspicion. 
Even  the  man  who  has  forestalled  us  with  the  solu- 
tion of  the  cryptogram  was  unable  to  discover  the 
treasure  until  he  had  recourse  to  the  clumsy  method 
of  smashing  up  the  clock.  This  is  what  he  used  to  do 
it."  Crewe  pointed  to  an  axe  lying  near.  "With 
that  he  smashed  the  case,  found  the  treasure,  and 
carried  off  what  he  could.  He  would  be  able  to  carry 
four  of  these  bags  at  a  time — two  in  each  hand.  He 
has  left  these  four  for  another  trip.  How  many  trips 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      281 

he  has  already  made  I  do  not  know,  but  probably  more 
than  one." 

"He  may  be  back  again  any  moment,"  said  Mars- 
land,  lowering  his  voice  to  a  whisper.  "Hadn't  we  bet- 
ter hide?" 

"He  won't  be  back  just  yet,"  said  Crewe  confidently. 

"What  makes  you  so  certain  of  that  ?" 

"He  was  here  when  we  saw  the  flash  of  light.  That 
is  less  than  half  an  hour  ago.  To  walk  from  here 
with  four  of  these  bags  to  the  cliff,  down  the  path  in 
the  dark  to  the  boat  he  has  waiting  for  him  would  take 
more  than  half  an  hour." 

"But  what  makes  you  think  he  has  a  boat?  Why  do 
you  feel  sure  he  has  come  by  sea?" 

"Because  that  is  the  better  way  to  come  if  he  wanted 
to  escape  observation.  If  he  came  by  road  he  would 
have  brought  a  vehicle  and  would  have  taken  the 
whole  of  the  treasure  away  in  a  few  minutes.  But  in 
a  vehicle  he  might  be  met  along  the  road  by  some  one 
who  knew  him." 

"Have  you  any  idea  who  it  is?"  asked  Marsland. 

"Some  one  who  has  solved  the  cryptogram  or  got 
it  solved  for  him,"  said  Crewe.  "By  making  a  tour 
of  the  second-hand  bookshops  in  London  he  probably 
got  in  touch  with  some  one  who  has  made  a  study  of 
cryptograms,  and  in  that  way  got  it  solved.  There  are 
some  strange  human  types  in  these  big  second-hand 
bookshops  in  London — strange  old  men  full  of  unex- 
pected information  in  all  sorts  of  subjects." 

"But  how  did  he  get  a  copy  of  the  cryptogram? 
Could  he  have  got  possession  of  the  copy  I  found  on 
the  stairs  ?" 

"I  think  so." 


282      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

"How?" 

"Miss  Maynard  gave  it  to  him." 

"Miss  Maynard!"  echoed  the  young  man.  "How 
could  she  have  got  it?  She  left  the  house  with  me 
and  did  not  come  back.  In  fact,  she  was  very  much 
opposed  to  coming  back  when  I  suggested  that  we 
should  do  so  in  order  to  get  it." 

"If  she  had  it  in  her  possession  at  the  house  her 
opposition  to  your  proposal  to  go  back  for  it  is  quite 
reasonable.  I  think  you  said  that  after  you  found 
the  dead  body  upstairs  she  rushed  downstairs  and 
waited  outside  for  you.  She  had  ample  time  to  go 
into  the  room  and  take  the  cryptogram  from  the  table 
where  you  placed  it.  Doubtless  her  main  thought  was 
that  its  presence  might  implicate  Brett  in  some  way." 

"Then  it  is  Brett  who  has  taken  this  money  and  is 
carrying  down  the  cliff  to  the  boat  ?"  said  Marsland  ex- 
citedly. 

"Yes.  Probably  Miss  Maynard  is  down  at  the  boat 
keeping  guard  over  the  bags  as  he  brings  them." 

"And  you  think  he  will  come  back  here  for  the  rest  ?" 
asked  Marsland. 

Crewe  noticed  the  eagerness  in  the  young  man's 
voice :  it  seemed  as  if  Marsland  was  excited  by  the 
thought  of  meeting  Brett. 

"He  is  not  likely  to  leave  £4,000  behind  unless  he 
knows  the  place  is  being  watched." 

"Let  us  go  towards  the  cliffs  and  meet  him,"  de- 
clared Marsland  impatiently.  "To  think  that  I  am  to 
meet  him  face  to  face,  and  here  of  all  places." 

"We  might  miss  him  in  the  dark,  and  he  might  get 
clean  away." 

"Where  shall  we  hide  ?"  asked  the  young  man,  again 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      283 

sinking  his  voice  to  a  whisper.  "He  may  reach  here 
any  moment  now." 

"He  came  in  by  the  front  door.  The  lock  has  not 
been  injured,  so  apparently  he  has  a  key.  You  hide 
in  the  room  on  the  left — just  inside,  close  to  the  door. 
I  will  hide  in  the  cupboard  underneath  the  staircase. 
When  he  reaches  the  clock  he  cannot  escape  without 
passing  us.  Give  him  time  to  get  the  money,  and  as 
soon  as  he  has  the  bags  in  his  hands  ready  to  start  off, 
we  will  both  spring  out  at  him." 

Crewe  watched  Marslanci  °nter  the  sitting-room  on 
the  left  and  then  opened  the  door  of  the  cupboard  be- 
neath the  staircase  and  crouched  down.  The  cup- 
board opened  into  the  hall,  and  through  the  crack  of 
the  door  Crewe  was  able  to  see  into  the  room  where 
the  shattered  clock  was.  The  door  of  the  room  where 
Marsland  was  hidden  also  commanded  a  view  of  the 
interior  of  the  room  in  which  the  clock  stood.  The 
stillness  was  so  complete  that  Crewe  could  hear  the 
watch  in  his  pocket  ticking  off  the  ebbing  moments. 
Once  the  distant  yelp  of  a  sheep-dog  reached  him,  then 
there  was  another  long  period  of  stillness.  Twice  his 
keen  ear  caught  a  faint  creaking  in  the  old  house,  but 
he  knew  they  were  but  the  mysterious  night  noises 
which  are  so  common  in  all  old  houses :  the  querulous 
creakings  and  complaints  of  beams  and  joists  which 
have  seen  many  human  generations  come  and  go. 

But,  as  the  time  dragged  on  without  a  sound  to  in- 
dicate that  the  thief  was  returning,  Crewe  found  to 
his  vexation  that  he  had  increasing  difficulty  in  keeping 
his  senses  alert  in  that  dark  and  muffled  silence.  The 
close  and  confined  atmosphere  of  the  cupboard,  the 


284      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

lack  of  air,  his  cramped  position,  compelled  an  uncon- 
querable drowsiness. 

Then  he  heard  a  sound  which  drove  away  his  drow- 
siness— the  sound  of  a  key  in  a  lock.  He  heard  the 
door  creak  as  it  was  pushed  back  and  then  came  steps 
advancing  along  the  hall,  stumbling  along  noisily,  as 
though  their  owner  thought  that  the  need  for  precau- 
tions ceased  when  the  front  door  was  passed:  that 
once  inside  the  house  he  was  safe,  and  need  not  fear 
interruption. 

There  was  a  scrape  and  a  splutter,  and  a  flickering 
flame  in  the  hall;  the  thief  had  struck  a  match. 
Through  the  crack  of  the  cupboard  door  Crewe 
watched  the  tiny  blue  flame  grow  larger,  turn  yellow, 
and  burn  steadily,  and  he  could  see  the  dim  outline 
of  a  man's  back  and  a  hand  shielding  the  match  show- 
ing transparent  through  the  flame.  The  thief  had 
struck  his  match  with  his  face  to  the  doorway.  The 
outline  of  his  other  hand  approached,  and  the  light 
grew  brighter — the  intruder  had  lit  a  piece  of  candle. 
As  it  burnt  up  the  man  turned  towards  the  clock,  and 
Crewe  saw  the  face  of  Brett  for  the  first  time.  His  im- 
pression was  of  a  pair  of  hunted  nervous  eyes  roving 
restlessly  in  a  livid  waxen  mask,  a  tense  sucked-in 
mouth. 

He  saw  no  more.  Apparently  Marsland  had  been 
too  excited  to  wait  until  the  thief  had  the  bags  in  his 
hands,  for  Brett  started  as  though  he  heard  a  move- 
ment, and  quickly  extinguished  his  candle.  There  was 
a  moment  of  intense  silence,  and  then  Crewe  heard 
Marsland's  voice  raised  in  a  strange  high-pitched 
scream  that  made  it  seem  unfamiliar. 

"Powell,  you  traitor  and  murderer !    I  am  Marsland 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      285 

—Captain  Marsland.    I  will  kill  you  without  sending 
you  to  trial." 

Crewe  had  thrown  open  the  door  of  the  cupboard  at 
the  first  sound  of  the  voice,  but  before  he  could  get  on 
to  his  feet  there  was  the  deafening  sound  of  a  revolver 
shot,  followed  by  the  rush  of  feet  and  the  fall  of  a 
body. 

The  bullet  had  missed  the  thief,  and  Marsland,  ad- 
vancing on  him  after  firing,  had  been  knocked  over  by 
Brett's  rush  for  the  door.  Before  Crewe  could  reach 
him  across  Marsland's  prostrate  form  Brett  had 
thrown  open  the  door  and  was  outside  the  house. 

Crewe  dashed  for  the  door  in  pursuit.  He  caught  a 
glimpse  of  a  fleeing  figure,  bent  nearly  double  to  shield 
himself  from  another  shot,  running  down  the  gravel 
path  at  amazing  speed.  Then  the  figure  was  swallowed 
up  in  the  night. 

Crewe  followed,  without  waiting  to  find  out  how 
Marsland  had  fared.  He  failed  to  catch  another 
glimpse  of  Brett,  but  had  no  doubt  he  would  make  for 
the  path  down  the  cliff,  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away, 
Crewe,  who  had  been  a  long-distance  ninner  at  school, 
and  was  in  excellent  training,  knew  that  he  would 
last  the  distance  better  than  Brett. 

He  caught  sight  of  Brett  again  before  half  the  dis- 
tance between  the  downs  and  the  cliffs  had  been  cov- 
ered— a  fantastic  flying  figure  bobbing  into  view 
against  the  sky-line  for  an  instant  as  he  ran  across  the 
crest  of  a  little  hill,  and  as  suddenly  disappeared  again. 
But  that  brief  glimpse  of  the  fugitive  revealed  to 
Crewe  that  Brett  had  mistaken  his  course :  he  was  run- 
ning too  much  to  the  right. 


286      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

Crewe  ran  on  steadily  in  a  straight  line  for  the  path. 
When  Brett  discovered  that  he  had  run  too  wide  he 
would  have  to  curve  back,  taking  almost  a  semicir- 
cular course  before  he  reached  the  beginning  of  the 
path.  Crewe's  course  was  the  shorter — the  cord  to 
Brett's  bow,  and  would  bring  him  to  the  path  before 
Brett  could  possibly  reach  it.  The  detective  slackened 
pace  slightly,  and  cast  a  glance  over  his  shoulder  to 
see  if  Marsland  was  following  him ;  but  he  could  not 
see  him. 

Crewe  reached  the  hidden  path,  and  waited,  listen- 
ing, by  the  bushes  which  concealed  the  entrance.  Soon 
his  quick  ear  caught  the  pad  of  footsteps,  and  as  they 
drew  nearer  they  were  accompanied  by  the  quick 
breathing  of  a  man  running  hard.  Then  the  form  of 
Brett  loomed  up,  running  straight  for  the  path. 

Crewe  sprang  at  him  as  he  came  close,  but  the  run- 
ner saw  his  danger  in  time  to  fling  himself  sideways. 
He  was  on  his  feet  again  in  an  instant,  and  made  away 
along  the  edge  of  the  cliff,  bounding  along  with  great 
jumps  among  the  rocks  from  point  to  point  and  rock  to 
rock.  Crewe  drew  so  close  that  he  could  hear  Brett's 
panting  breath  as  he  ran,  but  each  time  Brett  with 
a  desperate  spurt  put  a  few  more  yards  between  them 
again.  Once  he  staggered  and  seemed  about  to  fall, 
but  he  sprang  up  again  and  ran  with  the  speed  of  a 
hare. 

They  had  reached  the  rocky  headland  which  jutted 
into  the  sea  a  hundred  yards  or  more  by  the  danger- 
ous turn  of  the  cliff  road.  Crewe  slackened  his  pace 
to  call  out  a  warning  to  the  man  he  was  pursuing. 

"Look  out  or  you  will  fall  over  the  cliff !"  he  cried. 

Brett  paused,  turned  irresolutely,  and  then  began 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      287 

slowly  to  retrace  his  steps.  But  as  he  did  so  a  figure 
appeared  suddenly  out  of  the  gloom  and  dashed  past 
Crewe  towards  him. 

"You  dog,  I  have  you !"  screamed  Marsland.  "You 
cannot  get  away  from  me  again." 

"Look  out,  Marsland !"  cried  Crewe,  springing  after 
him.  "You  will  both  go  over." 

Marsland  ran  on  without  heeding,  cursing  savagely 
at  the  hunted  man.  Brett  had  fled  away  again  at  the 
sound  of  his  voice,  and  Crewe  could  hear  his  gasping 
breath  as  he  stumbled  over  the  slippery  rocks.  The 
two  figures  appeared  clearly  against  the  sky-line  for 
a  moment  as  they  raced  towards  the  end  of  the  head- 
land. Then  the  foremost  disappeared  over  the  cliff 
with  a  scream.  Brett,  endeavouring  to  double  in  his 
tracks  at  the  edge  of  the  headland,  had  slipped  and 
gone  over. 

Marsland  was  standing  on  the  edge  of  the  cliff,  peer- 
ing down  into  the  sea  mist  which  veiled  the  water  be- 
low, when  Crewe  reached  his  side.  Crewe  drew  him 
back. 

"Come  away  if  you  don't  want  to  follow  him,"  he 
said.  "We  shall  have  to  get  the  police  out  to  look  for 
his  body,  but  perhaps  the  sea  will  carry  it  away." 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE  search  for  the  body  began  in  the  morning,  at 
low  tide.  Inspector  Murchison  had  come  from  Stave- 
ley  to  superintend,  and  from  the  landing-place  he  and 
Sergeant  Westaway  directed  the  operations  of  the 
Ashlingsea  fishermen  who  had  been  engaged  to  make 
the  search. 

Some  of  the  townspeople  who  had  walked  up  from 
the  town  to  witness  the  proceedings  thought  that  the 
body  would  be  swept  out  to  sea  and  never  recovered, 
but  the  fishermen,  with  a  deeper  knowledge  of  a  treach- 
erous piece  of  sea  from  which  they  wrested  their  liv- 
ing, shook  their  heads.  If  the  gentleman  had  fallen 
in  near  the  deep  water  of  the  landing-place  the  un- 
dercurrent might  have  carried  him  out  into  the  Chan- 
nel, but  there  were  too  many  reefs  and  sand-banks  run- 
ning out  from  the  headland,  and  too  many  cross-cur- 
rents, to  let  a  body  be  carried  out  to  sea. 

They  gave  it  as  their  opinion  that  the  body  would 
be  found  before  high  tide,  either  in  one  of  the  shallows 
near  the  big  sand-bank,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  out,  or  in 
one  of  the  pools  between  the  reefs  whose  jagged, 
pointed  edges  showed  above  the  surface  of  the  sea 
nearer  the  headland. 

The  sea  lay  grey  and  still  under  an  October  sky  of 
dull  silver.  The  boats,  as  they  came  from  Ashlingsea, 
put  in  at  the  landing-place  to  receive  the  instructions 

288 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      289 

of  the  police  officers  standing  there,  and  then  started  to 
search.  There  were  two  rowers  in  each  boat,  and 
standing  at  the  stern  was  a  man  holding  the  rope  to 
which  the  grappling  irons  were  attached.  Slowly  and 
mechanically  the  boats  were  rowed  out  some  distance 
to  sea,  and  then  rowed  back  again.  The  men  in  the 
stern  watched  the  ropes  in  their  hands  for  the  first  sign 
of  tautness  which  would  indicate  that  the  grappling 
irons  had  hooked  in  to  something.  Frequently  one 
of  the  irons  caught  on  a  piece  of  rock,  and  when  this 
happened  the  boat  had  to  be  eased  back  until  the  irons 
could  be  released.  The  boats  searching  further  out, 
near  the  sand-bank,  used  nets  instead  of  grappling 
irons. 

Crewe,  who  had  driven  over  in  his  car  from  Stave- 
ley,  after  watching  this  scene  for  some  time,  turned 
back  to  the  road  in  order  to  put  up  his  car  at  Cliff 
Farm  Marsland  had  not  accompanied  him.  The 
young  man  had  motored  over  with  his  uncle,  who,  af- 
ter hearing  from  his  nephew  a  full  account  of  the 
events  of  the  previous  night,  had  insisted  on  partici- 
pating in  the  search  for  the  missing  man.  Sir  George 
Granville,  on  arriving  at  the  headland,  had  scrambled 
down  the  cliff  with  some  idea  of  assisting  in  the  search, 
and  at  the  present  moment  was  standing  on  the  land- 
ing-place with  Inspector  Murchison,  gesticulating  to 
the  rowers,  and  pointing  out  likely  spots  which  he 
thought  had  escaped  their  attention. 

Crewe,  on  regaining  his  car,  found  Marsland  lean- 
ing against  it,  contemplating  the  scene  before  him  with 
indifferent  eyes.  He  nodded  briefly  to  the  detective, 
and  then  averted  his  eyes.  Crewe  explained  his  inten- 
tion regarding  the  car,  and  Marsland  said  he  might  as 

U 


290      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

well  go  down  with  him.  He  got  up  into  the  front  seat 
with  the  same  listlessness  that  had  characterized  his 
previous  actions,  but  did  not  speak  again  till  they 
reached  the  farm. 

At  the  house  Crewe  and  Marsland  met  Detective 
Gillett,  who  had  gone  there  to  store  his  bicycle  pre- 
paratory to  watching  the  operations  of  the  fishermen 
searching  for  the  body. 

"I  have  had  a  pretty  busy  time  since  you  came  along 
to  us  last  night,"  he  said,  referring  to  the  visit  of 
Crewe  and  Marsland  to  Ashlingsea  police  station  to 
report  the  fall  of  Brett  over  the  cliff.  "We  got  the 
money — £12,000  altogether.  There  was  £8,000  in  the 
motor-boat  and  £4,000  here  in  the  bottom  of  the  old 
clock  case,  as  you  said." 

"What  about  the  girl?"  asked  Crewe.  "Was  she 
there?" 

Detective  Gillett  looked  in  the  direction  of  Marsland 
before  replying. 

The  young  man,  with  the  same  air  of  detachment 
that  had  marked  his  previous  actions,  had  wandered 
some  distance  down  the  gravel-walk,  and  was  care- 
lessly tossing  pebbles  from  the  path  at  some  object 
which  was  not  apparent  to  the  two  men  in  the  porch. 

"I  found  her  searching  along  the  cliffs  with  a  lan- 
tern," said  Gillett,  in  a  low  voice.  "She  was  looking 
for  Brett ;  she  told  me  that  she  had  heard  a  scream  and 
she  thought  he  must  have  fallen  over  accidentally.  I 
didn't  enlighten  her.  Poor  thing,  she  is  half-demented. 
She  has  got  it  into  her  head  that  she  is  responsible  for 
some  document  or  paper  which  Brett  had  given  into 
her  safe-keeping,  and  which  she  handed  back  to  him 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      291 

last  night  at  his  request  before  he  went  to  the  farm 
to  look  for  the  money." 

"Doesn't  she  know  what  is  in  the  paper?"  asked 
Crewe  quickly. 

"Her  mind  is  in  such  a  state  that  it  is  useless  to  ques- 
tion her.  She  keeps  repeating  that  it  was  to  be 
opened  in  the  event  of  his  death.  It  was  only  after 
great  difficulty  I  ascertained  from  her  that  she  had 
given  the  paper  back  to  Brett  last  night.  I  am  anxious 
that  Brett's  body  should  be  recovered  in  order  to  as- 
certain what  its  contents  are." 

"I  should  think  the  girl  would  have  a  fair  idea  of 
the  contents." 

"I  think  so  too,  but  she  is  not  in  a  fit  state  to  be  ques- 
tioned at  present,  and  may  not  be  for  some  time.  The 
strain  has  been  too  much  for  her.  In  my  opinion  she 
is  in  for  a  severe  illness." 

"Where  is  she  now  ?" 

"At  the  station.  Of  course,  I  had  to  take  her  into 
custody  on  a  charge  of  attempting  to  steal  this  money. 
Whether  the  public  prosecutor  will  go  on  with  the 
charge  or  whether  he  will  bring  any  other  charge  of 
a  more  serious  nature  against  her  remains  to  be  seen." 

Marsland,  who  had  abandoned  his  stone  throwing, 
had  strolled  back  to  the  porch  in  time  to  hear  GiUerVs 
last  remarks. 

"It  is  a  strange  thing  to  find  a  girl  of  her  type  in  love 
with  such  a  scoundrel,"  he  said. 

"Quite  a  common  thing,"  said  Detective  Gillett, 
speaking  from  the  experience  of  the  seamy  side  of 
life  which  comes  under  the  attention  of  Scotland  Yard. 
"There  are  some  women  brought  up  in  good  surround- 
ings who  seem  to  be  attracted  irresistibly  to  scoundrels. 


292      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

You  never  know  what  a  woman  will  do.  By  the  by,  it 
is  a  good  thing,  Mr.  Marsland,  that  you  did  not  hit 
him  when  you  fired  at  him  last  night.  If  you  had 
killed  him  I  should  have  had  to  arrest  you,  and  the 
case  would  have  had  to  go  to  a  jury.  Of  course,  there 
is  no  doubt  how  it  would  have  ended,  but  it  would 
have  been  an  unpleasant  experience  for  you." 

"I  shouldn't  have  minded  that,"  was  the  young  man's 
answer. 

Gillett  regarded  this  declaration  as  bravado,  and 
merely  continued : 

"As  it  is,  you  are  virtually  responsible  for  his  death 
in  frightening  him  over  the  cliff,  but  the  law  takes  no 
account  of  that." 

"I  should  prefer  to  have  shot  him,"  said  Marsland. 

"Ah,  well,  I  must  get  away  and  see  what  they  are 
doing,"  said  the  Scotland  Yard  detective,  who  obvi- 
ously disliked  Marsland's  attitude.  "I  suppose  I'll  see 
you  again  during  the  day?" 

When  he  had  gone  off  towards  the  cliffs  Crewe 
turned  to  Marsland  and  said: 

"I  am  going  to  have  another  look  at  the  place — now 
that  this  case  is  concluded." 

He  entered  the  house  and  Marsland  followed  him. 
The  interior  looked  more  sombre  and  deserted  than 
ever.  The  fortnight  which  had  elapsed  since  the  trag- 
edy— during  which  time  the  place  had  been  left  un- 
tenanted — had  intensified  the  air  of  desolation  and 
neglect  that  brooded  over  the  empty  rooms,  had  thick- 
ened the  dust  on  the  moth-eaten  carpets  and  heavy 
old  furniture,  and  gave  an  uncanny  air  to  the  staring 
eyes  of  the  stuffed  animals  which  hung  on  the  wall  in 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      293 

glass  cases — dead  pets  of  dead  occupants  of  Cliff 
Farm. 

Crewe  and  Marsland  looked  through  the  house,  en- 
tered the  room  where  the  grandfather  clock  stood, 
and  Crewe  pointed  out  the  mark  of  the  bullet  which 
Marsland  had  fired  at  Brett  the  previous  night.  In  his 
excitement  he  had  fired  too  high,  and  the  bullet  had 
gone  into  the  wall  about  eight  feet  from  the  floor,  be- 
tween two  photographs  which  hung  on  the  wall.  One 
of  these  photographs  was  of  James  Lumsden,  the  ec- 
centric old  owner  of  Cliff  Farm,  who  had  broken  his 
neck  by  falling  downstairs.  The  other  was  Frank 
Lumsden,  whose  dead  body  had  been  found  in  'he 
house  by  Marsland  thirteen  days  before. 

"That  was  the  second  time  I  missed  Brett,"  said 
Marsland,  staring  at  the  bullet  hole  in  the  wall  between 
the  photographs. 

"The  second  time  ?"  echoed  Crewe.  "Do  you  mean 
that  he  was  the  burglar  at  whom  you  fired  a  week 
ago?" 

"Yes.  I  came  into  the  room  just  as  he  was  getting 
out  of  the  window.  I  caught  only  a  glimpse  of  him 
but  I  knew  him  instantly.  I  had  a  presentiment  that 
he  was  near  and  that  is  why  I  happened  to  be  wearing 
my  revolver." 

"What  was  his  object  in  breaking  into  the  house?" 

"He  wanted  to  be  sure  that  I  was  the  man  he  had 
to  fear  just  as  I  wanted  to  be  sure  that  he  was  the 
man  I  wanted  to  kill.  An  hour  before  I  had  broken 
into  his  rooms  at  41  Whitethorn  Gardens,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  making  sure  about  him.  I  saw  his  photo- 
graph there,  and  that  is  all  I  wanted." 

"And  it  was  you  and  not  he  who  was  in  the  house 


294      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

when  Mrs.  Penfield  called  out  that  the  police  were  in 
the  house  ?" 

"Yes,  that  was  I.  I  didn't  understand  why  she  called 
out,  but  it  served  as  a  warning  to  me  that  she  expected 
him.  And  so  when  I  got  back  to  my  uncle's  I  got 
my  revolver  out  of  the  drawer.  The  first  I  heard  of 
him  being  in  England  was  when  Inspector  Murchi- 
son  told  us,  although  I  was  prepared  in  a  way  after 
finding  that  Lumsden  had  been  here.  Murchison  spoke 
of  him  as  Brett,  but  I  did  not  know  him  by  that  name. 
So  to  make  sure  I  got  Mrs.  Penfield  out  of  the  house 
by  a  hoax  on  the  telephone  and  broke  into  the  place 
in  her  absence.  I  did  not  know  that  it  was  you  who 
came  back  with  her." 

"But  his  object  in  breaking  into  your  room  was  prob- 
ably to  get  some  article  of  yours  which  would  help 
to  bring  suspicion  against  you  with  regard  to  Lums- 
den's  death.  No  doubt  it  was  he  who  took  the  glasses 
which  were  subsequently  found  in  the  well.  As  you 
lost  a  pair  of  glasses  in  the  storm  and  arrived  at  the 
farm  without  them,  Miss  Maynard  probably  mentioned 
the  fact  to  Brett.  Did  you  tell  her  that  you  had  lost 
your  glasses  that  night?" 

"I  forget.  Oh,  yes,  I  did !  I  mentioned  it  when  we 
were  looking  at  the  cryptogram  on  the  stairs." 

"He  was  certainly  an  enterprising  scoundrel." 

"Don't  you  wish  to  know  why  I  wanted  to  kill 
him?"  asked  the  young  man  after  a  pause. 

"I  do,  very  much." 

"I  feel  that  I  must  speak  about  it,"  he  said.  "And 
you  are  the  only  man  to  whom  I  can.  You  heard  Mur- 
chison tell  us  that  Lumsden  and  Brett,  as  he  called 
himself,  had  been  tortured  by  the  Germans  but  that 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      295 

they  gave  away  no  information.  That  is  their  ver- 
sion; let  me  tell  you  the  truth  about  them.  Both  of 
them  belonged  to  my  company  in  France.  Lumsden 
had  been  under  me  for  four  or  five  months  and  I  had 
nothing  against  him.  He  was  a  fairly  good  soldier 
and  I  thought  I  could  depend  upon  him.  Powell— or 
Brett — had  come  over  with  a  recent  draft.  One  night 
when  I  was  holding  a  short  advanced  trench  to  the 
south  of  Armentieres  I  sent  Lumsden  and  Brett  out 
on  a  listening  patrol.  The  trench  we  were  holding  was 
reached  through  a  sap:  it  was  the  first  of  four  or  five 
that  were  being  dug  as  jumping  off  places  for  an  at- 
tack on  the  German  trenches. 

"It  was  just  about  midnight  that  I  sent  Lumsden 
and  Brett  out  and  they  ought  to  have  been  back  by  2 
a.  m.  It  was  the  middle  of  summer  and  dawn  com- 
menced about  3  a.  m.  Either  they  had  been  captured 
or  had  lost  their  way  and  were  waiting  for  dawn. 
When  it  was  light  enough  to  see  the  landscape,  two 
figures  appeared  on  the  parapet  of  a  German  trench 
in  front  about  three  hundred  yards  away.  They  were 
calling  and  gesticulating  to  us.  At  that  distance  it  was 
impossible  to  make  out  what  they  were  saying,  but 
from  their  gestures  we  gathered  that  the  Germans  had 
deserted  the  trench  and  it  was  ours  if  we  liked  to  go 
over  and  occupy  it. 

"It  came  as  such  a  surprise  that  none  of  us  stopped 
to  think;  but  if  we  had  stopped  no  one  would  have 
thought  of  treachery.  The  men  went  over  the  parapet 
— every  one  of  them.  It  was  a  race — they  were  laugh- 
ing and  joking  as  to  who  should  be  there  first.  And 
when  we  were  within  forty  yards  or  so  there  was  a 
volley  from  rifles  and  machine  guns.  The  bullets 


296      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

seemed  to  come  from  every  quarter.  The  men  were 
taken  by  surprise  and  they  dropped  almost  before  they 
had  time  to  realize  what  had  happened.  I  was  one  of 
the  first  to  go  down  but  it  was  only  a  bullet  in  the  leg. 
As  I  lay  where  I  fell  I  was  struck  by  another  bullet  in 
the  shoulder.  Then  I  crawled  to  a  shell  hole  for 
shelter.  I  found  seven  of  my  men  there,  all  of  whom 
had  been  hit. 

"We  were  not  there  long  before  the  Germans  com- 
menced to  lob  hand  grenades  into  the  shell  hole.  How 
I  escaped  death  I  do  not  know :  it  was  an  awful  experi- 
ence to  see  those  murderous  bombs  coming  down  and 
to  be  powerless  to  escape  from  them.  I  saw  several 
of  my  poor  men  with  limbs  blown  off  dying  in  agony, 
and  from  what  I  learned  subsequently  much  the 
same  thing  had  happened  in  other  shell  holes  where 
men  had  crawled  for  shelter.  Out  of  my  company  of 
82 — we  were  not  at  full  strength,  and  I  had  only  three 
second  lieutenants  besides  myself — I  was  the  only  one 
to  come  through  alive.  And  I  lay  in  a  state  of  semi- 
collapse  in  the  shell  hole  for  two  days  before  being 
rescued  when  our  men  drove  the  Germans  out  of  their 
trenches." 

"A  dreadful  experience,"  said  Crewe  sympatheti- 
cally. 

"These  two  miserable  loathsome  creatures,  Brett  and 
Lumsden,  to  save  their  own  lives,  had  beckoned  my 
company  into  the  trap.  They  had  been  captured  by 
the  Germans,  and  no  doubt  were  tortured  in  order  to 
make  them  do  what  they  did.  But  as  British  soldiers 
they  should  have  died  under  torture  rather  than  be 
guilty  of  treachery.  The  memory  of  how  my  poor  men 
died  without  having  a  chance  to  defend  themselves 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      297 

haunts  me  day  and  night.  I  hear  their  voices — their 
curses  as  they  realized  that  they  were  the  victims  of 
a  horrible  act  of  treachery,  their  cries  and  moans  in 
the  agony  of  death." 

He  sat  down  on  the  upturned  clock  case  and  buried 
his  face  in  his  hands. 


CHAPTER  XXV! 

"AM  I  the  first  man  to  whom  you  have  told  this 
story?"  asked  Crewe,  in  a  gentle  voice. 

"Yes,"  said  Marsland.  "It  is  not  a  story  that  I 
would  care  to  tell  to  many.  It  is  not  a  story  that  re- 
flects any  credit  on  me — my  company  wiped  out 
through  treachery  on  the  part  of  two  of  my  men." 

"But  when  you  came  back  to  England,  wouldn't  it 
have  been  better  to  have  reported  the  matter  to  the 
military  authorities  and  have  had  Brett  and  Lumsden 
tried  by  court  martial?" 

"I  did  not  know  they  were  in  England  until  I  came 
down  here :  I  thought  that  if  they  were  not  dead  they 
were  prisoners  in  Germany.  I  have  no  witnesses  for 
a  court  martial,  and  after  being  off  my  head  in  the  hos- 
pital for  a  couple  of  months  I  doubt  if  a  court  martial 
would  believe  my  story.  Counsel  for  the  defence 
would  say  I  was  suffering  from  delusions.  And  it 
would  have  driven  me  mad  if  such  a  scoundrel  as 
Brett  had  been  acquitted  by  a  court  martial  for  want 
of  evidence.  Besides,  the  satisfaction  of  having  him 
shot  was  not  to  be  compared  with  the  satisfaction  of 
shooting  him  down  myself  just  as  if  he  were  a  dog." 

"But  it  is  a  terribly  grave  thing  to  take  human  life — 
to  send  a  man  to  his  death  without  trial." 

"I  have  seen  so  many  men  die,  Crewe,  that  death 
seems  to  me  but  a  little  thing.  If  a  man  deserves 

298 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      299 

death,  if  he  knows  himself  that  he  deserves  it  a  hun- 
dredfold, why  waste  time  in  proving  it  to  others?  If 
I  had  shot  Brett  I  should  doubtless  have  had  to  stand 
my  trial  for  murder.  But  if  the  police  searched  all 
over  England  could  they  have  found  a  jury  who  would 
convict  me  if  I  saw  fit  to  tell  my  story  in  the  dock? 
Told  by  a  man  in  the  dock  it  would  carry  conviction ; 
but  told  by  a  man  in  the  witness-box  at  a  court  mar- 
tial it  might  not." 

"I  believe  there  is  some  truth  in  that,"  said  Crewe, 
in  a  firm,  quiet  voice.  "But  it  is  a  matter  which  must 
be  put  to  the  test." 

Marsland  stood  up  and  fixed  on  him  an  intent  gaze. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  he  said.  "If  Brett  is  dead  he 
died  by  accident — by  a  fall  over  the  cliff.  The  law 
cannot  touch  me." 

The  detective  did  not  speak,  but  his  eyes  held  the 
young  man's  glance  intently  for  a  moment,  and  then 
traveled  slowly  to  the  portrait  of  Frank  Lumsden  on 
the  wall. 

"I  mean  that,"  he  said  slowly. 

"Do  you  know  all?"  Marsland  asked,  in  a  voice 
which  was  little  more  than  a  whisper. 

"I  know  that  it  was  you  who  shot  Frank  Lumsden." 

"Yes,  I  shot  him!"  The  young  man  sprang  to  his 
feet  and  uttered  the  words  in  a  loud,  excited  tone 
which  rang  through  the  empty  house.  "And  so  little 
do  I  regret  what  I  have  done,  that  if  I  had  the  chance 
to  recall  the  past  I  would  not  falter — I  would  shoot 
him  again." 

"Sit  down  again,"  said  Crewe  kindly.  "Do  not  ex- 
cite yourself.  You  and  I  can  discuss  this  thing  quietly 
whatever  else  is  to  happen  afterwards." 


300      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

"How  long  have  you  known  that  I  did  it?"  asked 
Marsland,  after  a  pause. 

"It  was  not  until  yesterday  that  I  felt  quite  certain. 
What  annoys  me — what  offends  my  personal  pride  is 
that  my  impetuous  young  friend  Gillett  picked  you  out 
as  the  right  man  before  I  did.  He  was  wrong  in  his 
facts,  wrong  in  his  deductions,  wrong  in  his  theories, 
and  hopelessly  wrong  in  his  reconstruction  of  the 
crime.  He  had  no  more  chance  of  proving  a  case 
against  you  than  against  the  first  man  he  might  pick 
out  blindfolded  from  a  crowd,  and  yet  he  was  right. 
True,  he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  he  was  wrong 
when  I  put  him  right  as  to  the  circumstances  under 
which  the  tragedy  occurred,  but  that  doesn't  soothe  my 
pride  altogether.  If  there  is  one  lesson  I  have  learned 
from  this  case,  it  is  that  humility  is  a  virtue  that  be- 
comes us  all. 

"But,  after  all,  I  do  not  think  I  have  been  so  very 
long  in  solving  the  problem,"  the  detective  continued. 
"It  is  only  thirteen  days  since  the  tragedy  took  place, 
and  from  the  first  I  saw  it  was  a  complicated  case.  I 
never  ruled  out  the  possibility  of  your  being  the  right 
man  after  Brett  and  Miss  Maynard  tried  to  sheet  home 
Lumsden's  death  to  you.  I  do  not  think  she  was  fully 
in  Brett's  confidence — in  fact,  it  is  fairly  obvious  that 
he  would  not  tell  her  the  story  of  his  treachery.  But 
he  knew  that  you  had  shot  Lumsden  and  she  caught 
at  his  conviction  without  being  fully  convinced  herself. 
Brett's  conduct  was  inconsistent  with  guilt.  But  it  was 
consistent  with  the  knowledge  that  Lumsden  had  met 
his  death  at  your  hands  and  that  he  himself  would 
share  the  same  fate  if  you  encountered  him. 

"I  am  under  the  impression  that  he  reached  Lums- 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      301 

den  a  few  minutes  after  you  rode  away  from  the  spot, 
and  that  Lumsden  was  then  alive.  Probably  he  was 
able  to  breathe  out  your  name  to  Brett.  The  latter 
helped  the  dying  man  into  the  motor-car  and  started 
to  drive  back  to  Staveley  for  medical  aid,  and  after 
passing  the  thatched  cottage  on  the  right  he  became 
aware  that  Lumsden  had  collapsed  and  was  past  hu- 
man aid.  So  he  decided  to  take  the  body  to  the  farm, 
and  in  order  to  disappear,  without  drawing  immediate 
suspicion  on  himself,  he  tried  to  indicate  that  Lumsden 
was  shot  in  the  house. 

"Then  he  disappeared  because  he  was  afraid  of  you. 
If  he  had  got  you  under  lock  and  key  he  might  have 
risked  coming  into  the  open  and  giving  evidence  against 
you.  But  I  rather  fancy  that  his  intention  was  to  get 
away  to  a  foreign  country  with  old  Lumsden's  money, 
and  then  put  the  police  on  your  track  by  giving  the 
true  circumstances  under  which  Lumsden  was  shot." 

"Did  he  write  to  you  ?"  asked  Marsland. 

"No." 

"I  was  always  afraid  he  would.  What  put  you  on 
my  track?" 

"The  conviction  that  you  had  warned  this  girl  to 
clear  out  as  Gillett  had  obtained  some  awkward  facts 
against  her.  You  were  the  only  person  who  had  any 
object  in  warning  her,  though  Gillett  thinks  you  had 
even  less  reason  to  do  so  than  Brett.  I  regarded 
you  merely  as  an  average  human  being  and  not  actu- 
ated by  Quixotic  impulses.  I  remembered  that  she 
had  tried  to  sheet  home  the  crime  to  you  and  therefore 
you  had  little  cause  to  be  grateful  to  her — so  far  I  am 
in  accord  with  Gillett.  But  if  you  knew  that  she  had 
nothing  to  do  with  the  tragedy,  and  if  you  felt  that 


302      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

Gillett's  close  questioning  might  lead  to  information 
from  Brett  which  would  tell  against  you,  it  was  com- 
mon sense  on  your  part  to  get  her  out  of  the  way." 

"It  is  wonderful  how  you  have  divined  my  mind  and 
the  line  of  thought  I  followed,"  said  the  young  man. 
His  even  tones  were  an  indication  that  he  was  regain- 
ing his  composure. 

"Next,  there  was  your  attempt  to  kill  Brett  instead 
of  helping  me  to  capture  him.  That  told  against  you. 
True,  it  indicated  that  you  had  what  you  regarded  as  a 
just  cause  of  deadly  hatred.  But  if  you  were  under 
the  belief  that  Brett  had  killed  Lumsden  it  would 
have  suited  you  better  to  capture  him  than  to  shoot 
him.  Your  shot  at  Brett  showed  me  that  you  knew 
it  was  not  Brett  who  had  killed  Lumsden,  and  also 
that  you  feared  if  Brett  were  arrested  he  would  charge 
you  with  shooting  Lumsden." 

"Go  on,"  said  the  young  man  breathlessly. 

"There  is  little  more  to  tell,"  said  Crewe.  "I  had 
to  ask  Gillett  yesterday  not  to  refer  to  the  doubts  I  had 
expressed  to  him  regarding  Brett's  guilt.  I  was  afraid 
he  might  do  so  in  your  presence  and  that  would  have 
put  you  on  your  guard.  The  final  proof  came  when 
Gillett  discovered  the  bullet  in  the  tree  where  Lumsden 
fell.  At  the  moment  Gillett  found  the  bullet  I  picked 
up  these  in  the  grass." 

Crewe  produced  from  his  waistcoat  pocket  a  pair  of 
eye-glasses. 

"So  that  is  where  I  lost  them!"  exclaimed  Mars- 
land.  "It  never  occurred  to  me  before.  I  have  no 
recollection  of  their  dropping  off — I  suppose  I  was  too 
excited  to  notice  they  had  gone." 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      303 

"Your  meeting  with  him  was  accidental?"  said 
Crewe. 

"Quite.  I  had  been  out  riding  on  the  downs  and 
when  I  struck  the  road  I  wasn't  sure  which  way  I  had 
to  go  to  get  home.  I  saw  a  man  coming  along  the  road 
and  I  rode  up  to  him.  It  was  Lumsden.  I  tell  you, 
Crewe,  he  was  terrified  at  the  sight  of  me — no  doubt 
he  thought  that  I  had  been  killed  in  France.  As  I  was 
dismounting  and  tying  up  my  horse  he  pleaded  for  his 
life.  He  grovelled  at  my  feet  in  the  dirt.  But  I 
didn't  waste  much  time  or  pity.  I  told  him  that  he  had 
earned  death  a  hundredfold,  and  that  the  only  thing  I 
was  sorry  for  was  that  I  could  kill  him  only  once. 
He  sprang  up  the  bank  in  the  hope  of  getting  away, 
but  I  brought  him  down  with  a  single  shot.  I  saw  that 
he  was  done  for  and  I  left  him  gasping  in  the  agony 
of  death.  I  had  no  pity — I  had  seen  so  many  men  die, 
and  I  had  seen  my  company  of  good  men  go  to  their 
deaths  because  of  his  treachery. 

"I  rode  back  over  the  downs,  and  caring  little  which 
way  I  went  I  lost  my  way  and  was  overtaken  by  the 
storm.  Eventually  I  saw  the  farm  and  went  there  for 
shelter.  And  upstairs  I  found  the  dead  body  of  this 
man  Lumsden.  It  was  the  strangest  experience  of  my 
life.  I  did  not  know  what  to  think — I  could  not  make 
out  how  the  body  had  got  there.  And  when  Miss 
Maynard  asked  me  to  say  nothing  to  the  police  about 
her  having  been  there  I  thought  it  was  the  least  I 
could  do  for  her.  I  knew  that  whatever  errand  had 
brought  her  there  she  had  nothing  to  do  with  his 
death." 

There  was  a  long  pause  during  which  the  two  men 
looked  at  one  another. 


304      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

"You  think  that  I  had  just  cause  for  shooting  him?" 
said  Marsland. 

"I  think  you  had  no  right  to  take  upon  yourself  the 
responsibility  of  saying  'The  law  will  fail  to  punish 
these  men  and  therefore  I  will  punish  them  without  in- 
voking the  aid  of  the  law !'  " 

"I  do  not  regret  what  I  have  done.  As  I  said  be- 
fore, if  I  had  to  go  through  it  again  I  would  not  hesi- 
tate to  shoot  him.  Perhaps  it  is  because  I  have  lived 
so  much  with  death  while  I  was  at  the  front  that 
human  life  does  not  seem  to  me  a  sacred  thing.  These 
two  men  deserved  death  if  ever  men  did." 

"You  believe  that  no  jury  would  convict  you?" 
said  Crewe. 

"I  do  not  see  how  a  jury  of  patriotic  Englishmen 
could  do  so.  But  I  do  not  care  about  that.  I  have 
finished  with  my  life ;  I  do  not  care  what  becomes  of 
me.  When  I  recall  what  I  have  been  through  over 
there  in  France,  when  I  think  of  the  thousands  of 
brave  men  who  have  died  agonized  deaths,  when  I  see 
again  the  shattered  mutilated  bodies  of  my  men  in  the 
shell-hole  with  me — I  want  to  forget  that  I  have  ever 
lived.  All  that  remains  to  be  done  is  that  you  should 
hand  me  over  to  the  police." 

"That  is  a  responsibility  which  I  should  like  to  be 
spared,"  said  Crewe  gravely.  "I  think  we  may  leave 
it  to  Brett." 

"To  Brett!"  exclaimed  Marsland,  springing  to  his 
feet  again  in  renewed  excitement.  "Do  you  think  he 
has  escaped  death ;  do  you  think  he  has  got  away  ?" 

"I  feel  sure  he  was  killed.  But  if  his  body  is  re- 
covered the  police  will  learn  from  it  that  it  was  you 
who  shot  Lumsden." 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS      305 

"How  will  they  find  that  out  ?" 

"The  girl  Maynard  has  told  them  that  he  had  an 
important  paper  in  his  possession  when  he  was 
drowned  and  that  is  why  they  are  so  anxious  to  re- 
cover the  body.  They  do  not  know  the  contents  of 
the  document  but  it  is  an  easy  matter  to  divine  them. 
Let  us  look  at  this  matter  in  the  way  in  which  Brett 
must  have  looked  at  it  after  thinking  it  over  carefully. 
He  knew  that  you  had  shot  Lumsden ;  he  knew  that  if 
he  met  you  his  life  would  not  be  worth  a  moment's  pur- 
chase. The  shot  you  fired  at  him  when  he  was  breaking 
into  your  room  at  Staveley  was  an  emphatic  warning 
on  that  point,  if  he  needed  any  warning. 

"Do  you  think  that  he  would  not  take  steps  to 
bring  his  death  and  Lumsden's  death  home  to  you  in 
the  event  of  his  being  shot  down?  If  he  had  got  out 
of  the  country,  as  no  doubt  he  had  hoped  to  do,  he 
would  have  put  the  police  on  your  track  for  shooting 
Lumsden.  If  the  police  recover  Brett's  body,  they  will 
find  on  it  a  document  setting  forth  Brett's  account  of 
how  Lumsden  met  his  death.  No  doubt  his  and  Lums- 
den's treachery  will  be  glossed  over,  but  your  share  in 
the  tragedy  will  be  plainly  put." 

"I  overlooked  all  this,"  said  Marsland  quietly.  "Let 
us  walk  across  to  the  cliffs  and  see  what  they  are  do- 
ing." 

They  left  the  farm  and  walked  slowly  towards  the 
cliffs,  each  immersed  in  his  own  thoughts.  There  were 
a  few  groups  of  people  on  the  road,  and  another  group 
at  the  top  of  the  hill.  Suddenly  there  arose  a  shout, 
and  the  people  on  the  road  started  running  towards 
the  cliffs. 

"They've  found  it  1"  The  cry  of  the  people  on  the 

I 


306      THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  DOWNS 

beach  below  was  carried  up  to  the  cliffs,  and  Crewe 
and  Marsland,  looking  down,  saw  the  fishermen  in  one 
of  the  boats  close  to  the  cliff  lift  from  the  water  the 
dripping,  stiffened  figure  of  a  man  which  had  been 
brought  to  the  surface  by  the  grappling  irons. 


THE  EUD 


